


It Begins at Death

by Selan (Fierystorm22)



Series: The Deathening [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8556166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierystorm22/pseuds/Selan
Summary: He discovered her secret, and, fearing he would let the world know, she framed him for her death. Years pass, and she ends up migrating to the village he's become the leader of, because she believes this place is safe due to the rumors of the leader. The question is, does he remember the girl who framed him, and does he remember what she looked like--even though years had passed? When she sees him walk into her place of employment, she realizes she has to make some decisions, and fast.





	1. Prologue: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long to update!! I had an unexpected familial death.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I changed EVERYTHING. I am unashamed. The summary is basically the same kinda. He discovered her secret, and she framed him for her death, but now everything's completely rewritten. This is still a prologue, but it is a very LONG prologue. Very, very long. This is part one of the prologue. Enjoy!

The small, young boy snoozed away under the influence of strong sedation. He hadn’t shifted since the last time he’d thrown a major fit, destroyed half the hospital room, and knocked out three medics. Partially because nobody had gotten close enough to him since. The last time he’d awakened, it was because the medics were carrying through with the exam by attempting to undress him and remove the gloves. They weren’t sure what caused the outburst—them trying to take off the blood-stained, torn up pants, or them trying to take off the gloves. Whatever it was, they hadn’t been near him since.  
The only two remaining in the room happened to be of high ranks, powerful enough to stop the next tirade, if it should happen. “Just tell me once more,” the older man was saying, rubbing his temples, “how you found him?”  
“We were returning from the mission, when Misaki noticed someone following. We set up camp early, set a trap, and waited. About an hour passed before he came for the trap, and we cornered him. He attacked us, threw Gai into a tree, Misaki into me, and threw something at me that caused this,” he pulled his sleeve up to reveal both deep and shallow cuts on his forearm, “and I still am not sure what caused it.”  
“No weapons were found on him, or around the area?”  
“Nothing but a kunai he stole from Gai after he knocked him into a tree.”  
“And then?”  
“I managed to calm him down with a bribe of food, and he told us that he’s an orphan from the samurai country. That’s all he would tell me.”  
“And his medical examination seems to back up that theory. The medics think he may have been in the wilderness for at least two years. According to his examination,” he flipped the pages of the report, “he has a strange marking on his chest, an extensive, but depleted Chakra system, and an unusually strong muscular system. Obviously he had extensive training from the village he was from, but hasn’t eaten for so long that his strength and Chakra are almost nonexistent. So . . . due to all that, I’m not entirely sure what to make of the boy.” He turned his eyes to the young snoozing boy. “Except that we can’t just send him back out into the world.”  
“He could be a threat,” the younger man pointed out, “but you’re right. His medical examination didn’t seem to point to him being anything but what he said. And he’s obviously powerful enough to take on two grown Jonin and one Anbu. Not successfully, but enough that he managed to wound all three.”  
“So . . . the Academy. He’ll join the Academy, and until there’s an open spot at the apartment building, he’ll have to stay in the orphanage.” He sighed. “So many strange occurrences lately.”  
“I sent out the pictures of the birthmark. No other village seems to recognize it, and they would if he were born into them, so I would assume that he would have to be from the samurai country. His examination backed that up, too. None of the Great Five train children that extensively that young.”  
“He’s, what, seven? Yea. His Chakra control is beyond what we teach at his age.” Another sigh. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him.”  
“Right.”  
“We’ll set an Ambu on his case.. Hopefully I’m not making the wrong decision in letting him stay.”

The Academy training yard was full of kids rambling and training, and most of them kept staring at me. Instead of acknowledging them, I sat in the corner, meditating. Even with my eyes shut, I could feel them staring at me. It was quite annoying, but I’d had to deal with a lot of annoyances while learning to meditate, so it wasn’t anything hard to ignore.  
Until, “Hey! Hey, you! I have a question!”  
I ignored him, taking deep breaths, one after the other.  
“Hey! New guy, I have a question!” The voice was getting closer. “Just one question.”  
“Sasuke, leave him alone,” another voice said. “He’s busy.”  
“Oh, shut it, you creep,” another, a female, said. I almost opened my eyes to see who spoke ill to the boy.  
“Maybe he can’t hear you,” yet another voice.  
“With those ears? Yea, right. He can probably hear our heartbeats!” It was the same girl who’d mouthed off to the boy.  
‘And actually, yes, yes, I can hear your heartbeats. It wasn’t hard.  
“One question, then you can go back to doing whatever it is you’re doing.” The voice was right in front of me now.  
I sighed, and opened my eyes, dropping my hands to my lap. “It’s called ‘meditating.’ Which you would know if you were properly trained. . . .”  
He shrugged that off and smiled. He had deep black eyes, and black, black hair. “I was just curious. Your ears, are they common in the samurai country? Like, do all the people in your family have them?”  
My eyes widened, and I flinched slightly, reaching up to touch my ears. “Wh-what’s wrong with my ears?”  
“Sasuke, stop, you’re being mean,” the second boy said. I looked over to see a blond boy with big, bright blue eyes, watching me. “Leave him alone.”  
A girl shoved him back. “Go away. Nobody wants you.”  
I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.  
“I’m just-”  
“Wait, did you just say he was from the samurai country?” A larger, older boy stepped into my view, peering at me over the smaller, black-haired boy’s head. “Like, not from the Great Five at all?”  
The black-haired boy turned around, eyes slightly wide. “You guys didn’t know that?”  
“No, I just assumed he was a civilian-turned-Shinobi,” the boy answered. A couple of people echoed him with “Yea,” or “Me too!”  
I sat there, giving cool, blank eyes to the yard ahead of me, until the bigger boy shoved the smaller one out of the way. I tensed slightly, but didn’t react when he reached down to grab the collar of my shirt in his larger hand. I met his eyes coolly.  
“You,” he spat, “you are a traitor. An invader. Why are you here?”  
I didn’t answer.  
“Leave him alone, Isao!” the blond bellowed, surging forward only to be blocked by three larger boys.  
“Keep’im busy, Kenta, Misaaki, and Daiki,” the larger boy—Isao—told him. “Hachiro, Nobu, and Satoru, back me up.”  
“Ooh,” I said softly. “Big, bad Isao needs his goons to back him up, huh?”  
A look of rage crossed his face, and he suddenly slammed his fist into my face, letting my collar go.  
“Isao! Stop!” the black-haired boy suddenly yelled, standing in front of me. “Leave him alone!”  
I stood, wiping the blood from my lip, and shoved the kid out of my way. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” I snarled, glaring at him. I stood toe-to-toe with the older boy, staring up at him. “And if you really value your life, I would walk away. Now.”  
He lifted me again, and I stared coolly at him. “Are you threatening me?”  
“Yes,” I said simply.  
“You’re a scrawny little thing. You can’t do a damn thing to me.”  
“Maybe not right now,” my voice was soft, “but I guarantee, you’re going to regret this.”  
“What makes you so sure of this?”  
“Even if you walk out of this unscathed, I promise you one thing.” I leant in very close to his face. “Sooner or later, I will haunt your nightmares. Yours, and the goons behind you.”  
He hit me again. Then again, and again, before throwing me to the side.  
I lay there a moment, slightly surprised he still had enough fight in him to keep coming. I stood, meeting his eyes coolly again as I wiped blood from my lip. Then I looked away from him to stare at the blood on my hand. Carefully, looking back into his eyes, I licked the blood from my hand as he paused in his approach.  
A look crossed his face. Disgust. “How many times do I have to hit you before you stay down?”  
“Why don’t you find out?” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to go against him. I hadn’t had enough time to recover. But I also knew he wasn’t strong enough to cause real damage to me.  
He snapped his fingers, and three goons stepped out around him, then surged toward me. I didn’t fight them as they grabbed me, forcing me to my knees. I only gave them the same, dead eyes. He knelt in front of me.  
“Isao, you’re going too far, stop it now!” the blond was yelling. I glanced back to see him fighting against the other three. The black-haired boy had fled.  
‘Coward,’ I thought viciously. ‘The blond is brave enough to keep fighting, but you? You ran.’  
A hand cupped my face. Isao’s ugly face was suddenly right in mine. “You are going to remember this for the rest of your life,” he growled, a kunai flashing in his hand.  
For a moment, I felt fear flash in me. I fought it back, meeting his eyes unafraid, until he twisted my head to the side with his hand cupped around my chin. My heart hammered in my chest. I was afraid again. “I really wouldn’t do this,” I said softly, wincing slightly at the waver in my voice.  
“Scared now? You should be, you creep.” And pain. In my ear. I screamed, and he laughed, cutting deeper into my ear. “I’m going to make you look like us! With normal ears!”  
I screamed louder, trying to thrash. The boys were stronger than I was, and I had a moment to really realize that I was weaker, even fully recovered, than they were. ‘Maybe being a boy is going to be tougher than I thought. I was always the strongest of my group!’ I’d never been the weakest.  
“That-that’s ENOUGH!” the blond suddenly yelled. A burst of power tore through the yard, and the boys froze. I looked over at the boy to see tears on his face, contrasting sharply against the rage. “You leave him alone!”  
“Oh, the little brat decides to be tough now, huh?” Isao cut deeper. “How about you make—ouch!”  
A throwing shuriken had suddenly embedded into Isao’s larger hand. I followed the path it must’ve taken to an older, black-haired boy. His hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had two lines running down his face. He was accompanied by the younger black-haired boy. “How about you let him go right now,” the older boy said calmly, “and I don’t report your misbehavior to the Hokage? Or maybe I should, since you so clearly object to his decisions. Maybe you should tell him why you know better than he does?”  
Isao had frozen, and real fear had crossed his face. He scrambled to his feet, backing away from me just as his goons scrambled away on all fours. “I-I didn’t mean-”  
“Of course not,” the older boy said softly, understandingly, “I understand. You were just scared, right? Scared of . . . a child, half your size?” His eyes turned toward me, and I saw a flash of red. The flash of red made the others back even further away from me. “He’s the same age as my little brother—who I heard you also pushed around?”  
A smirk had grown on the younger boy’s face. “Yea. He pushed me to the ground to get to him.”  
“That just won’t do,” he said softly. His eyes flashed again, and I had the feeling to look away. Seconds later, the boys dropped to their knees, sobbing, but nothing had been done.  
“I think that should be a sufficient warning. Next time you attack any young child belonging to this village, remember this warning. Next time, I won’t be so lenient with you.” He turned, walked away after ruffling his younger brother’s hair.  
He was grinning—at me, surprisingly—and stupidly—enough. He jogged toward me, hand down to help me up. “Are you okay?”  
I could feel the warm, thick blood on my neck, on my ear. Could feel it stinging and tingling. And all because he had to ask a stupid question. I knocked his hand away, surging to my feet to punch him in the face. As hard as I could. He merely stumbled back slightly, a shocked look on his face, and I growled. ‘That should’ve knocked you out! What do they feed the boys in this village?!’ “Next time you come near me, you spoiled coward, you should remember one thing.” I grabbed his shirt, pulling him close to my face. “Remember my name, and remember there’s a reason that’s my name. Satsugai-Sha. Remember it well.” I shoved him away, hard, and turned away from him to glare at the blond. “And you, little boy,” my eyes flashed, “next time, don’t bother standing up for me. I don’t need your weakness tainting my name.”  
A look crossed his face, and I almost winced. He was dejected, felt rejected, and I felt like I’d crushed him, but . . . I had to. He’d almost gotten hurt trying to defend me. I wasn’t going to let that happen again. As brave as the little boy was, he was out of his league, trying to defend me. I’d felt his power—I wasn’t calling him weak. But he was soft, and young, and though I knew he was no younger than I, I knew, mentally, he was. He couldn’t handle the pain and abuse I could—I wouldn’t let that happen to the brave boy. I wouldn’t let him get hurt again for defending me.  
The bruise on his cheek and his bloody nose and lip testified to that, and made me feel righted by this. “Just . . . stay away from me, both of you disgust me.” I gave them both hard, disgusted looks, before returning to my meditation. 

Laughter. Shouts. Someone whirled passed me, laughing loudly, and I groaned. ‘Naruto, that loudmouth.’ Several older Jonin rushed after him, and he grinned as he whirled to face them. “Transform!” he called out. His form changed from that of a young boy to an older, nude woman.  
And I froze. That was unlike any transformation I’d ever seen before. The older Shinobi paused, staring at the transformation, becoming phased enough that Naruto managed to sneak away. I followed him.  
“Oi! You! Naruto!” I called out once we were deep in the forest.  
He turned, eyes widening. “Satsugai-Sha.” An angry, saddened look crossed his face. “What do you want?”  
“How much ramen would it cost me to convince you to teach me that transformation?”  
His eyes widened more. Shock replaced the previous look. “What? Tea-teach you?”  
I nodded. “I’ll buy you ramen. And, as an added bonus, I’ll help you strengthen and better that Jutsu. How’s that sound?”  
He blinked, shock still evident on his face. “Y-you want me . . . to teach you something?”  
I sighed, slightly irritated. “Yea, I think your Jutsu is pretty amazing, to put it bluntly, and I’d love to learn it. For my own purposes. What do you say?”  
He blinked again, then grinned widely. “You wouldn’t have to pay me in ramen. Just say that one more time.”  
“Say what?”  
“About my Jutsu.”  
I sighed again. “I said, your Jutsu is pretty amazing. I’d love to learn it from you.”  
His grin widened. “Okay! I’ll teach you, but you’ll have to start from the basics.”  
That made me wary. Well, that, and the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Which means?”  
“Research.” 

Research, he’d said. Research.  
What that meant, apparently, was hours of standing around in hot springs, spying on females until I wanted to smack him. However, that kind of research wouldn’t help me, so what I ended up doing—without him, obviously—was doing that exact thing, but in the men’s rooms. Since I was technically viewed as a boy, I got away with it, but it wasn’t as pleasant for me as it was for Naruto. Instead, it was downright unpleasant, but it ended up working out well. And I got Naruto on board for helping us twist his Jutsu into an entirely new one—one that lasted as long as you wanted to, with little Chakra usage, that you could maintain and use more Jutsu while using it.  
Kinda like a normal transformation Jutsu, but one less consuming that could be help for much longer, and one you could do much more with. I ended up treating him to ramen before and every training session, which started out as every couple of days, then turned into every day. And once we got further on with the training, and the Jutsu was almost perfected, we trained less and talked more. I even ended up letting him call me Satsu.  
And the one thing I’d spent years avoiding happened. I’d made a friend—at first, I’d used him to help me fool his village, and had completely meant to abandon him afterward, but the more time we spent together, the more I liked him. We spent more time talking, or just hanging out, or swimming at times, than we did training eventually, but finally, we’d perfected it, and afterward, we met at the ramen stand.  
Where he fell unusually quiet, and stared into the ramen I’d ordered for him, instead of eating it. And I worried. “Naruto? What’s wrong?” I nudged his shoulder with mine.  
He sighed and sank further into the counter, folding his arms under his chin. “Nothing,” he muttered.  
“You haven’t eaten your ramen. So I know it’s not nothing, but what is it?”  
He glanced at me, then shook his head. His bright blue eyes were unusually somber. “Nothing. Really.”  
“Naruto. . . .” I nudged him again. “C’mon, you can talk to me.”  
He glanced at me again. Sighed. “We’re finished.”  
I nodded. “Yea, the Jutsu’s perfected. So? Why’s that something to be sad about?”  
He dropped his head into his arms and mumbled something I couldn’t catch.  
“Uh. Try talking to me, instead of to your arm? Or are you sweet-talking your arm again?”  
Usually, that would make him laugh. Today, he just sighed again. I nudged him again, and he lifted his head. “I don’t mean the Jutsu’s finished. . . .”  
I blinked, not sure what he meant. “Well, yea, we’re finished with the Jutsu. So?”  
“So . . . you won’t have to train with me anymore. . . .”  
I blinked again. “I’m confused. Explain.”  
“You . . . you won’t hang out with me anymore.”  
Another blink. It dawned on me, and I did the most logical thing I could think of.  
I punched him. Hard. He fell out of his seat, landed on the ground, and stared up at me in shock as I stood over him, eyes burning. “Naruto, are you implying that since we’re finished with the Jutsu, I’m just gonna abandon you?” I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “Naruto Uzumaki, you can’t be that stupid. Okay, we’re finished with the Jutsu. We’ll come up with another Jutsu we can create. Or we’ll talk. Or walk. Or, hell, we’ll sit in my cabin and watch movies and throw popcorn at each other—I dunno! But I’m not going anywhere.”  
He blinked. “Really?”  
“Naruto, we’re friends. I won’t abandon a friend.” I held my hand down to him.  
He grinned, reaching up to grab my hand. He let me pull him to his feet, and grinned. Then he hugged me. “We’re friends?”  
“Friends.”  
He let me go, sitting in his stool to gulp down his food. “So, what if we did want to create another Jutsu, what next?”  
“Well, you did just learn the Shadow Clone Jutsu—congrats on it, by the way, and for graduating—maybe we can use that to twist our Jutsu more, and make clones that don’t look like clones.”  
He nodded, mouth full with ramen. “Maybe we can make an army with that! Make it look like we have a real army, with their own Chakra abilities and everything!”  
I grinned. “Sounds like fun. We’ll start on it tomorrow!”  
“And then we’ll be able to do twice as many pranks, and scare the people that keep picking on you.”  
I grinned again. “Naruto, I think I scare them enough to back them off.”  
“Not always,” he pointed out, “but if it looks like you have an army of your own, they might leave you alone.”  
I was touched. He wanted to create a fake army to help me. I smiled at him. “And maybe we can finally play tag the right way, or kickball, or baseball—or anything, really.”  
“Yes! That sounds like a great idea!”  
Obviously this idea never bloomed into a full blown plan. Sure, we tried, but after graduating, both of us were put on different teams, with different team members, and shortly after that, the Chuunin Exams started.  
But we never stopped trying, and despite mostly being always busy, when we were both home, we always met for breakfast and dinner at Ichiraiku Ramen Stand. It was at this stand that HE was mentioned the first time.  
“He just glared at me, man. It was creepy. I didn’t even bump into him or anything.”  
“Yea, that redhead is just plain scary. I watched him back off a Jonin earlier. Just by staring at him.”  
I glanced at the two idly chatting away as I waited for Naruto to meet me for dinner. He was late, but he almost always was—or I was. Usual routine anymore.  
“That redhead shouldn’t be allowed in the village. He should be banned.”  
“Hey! Sorry I’m late, Kakashi-Sensei wouldn’t let us leave right away.” I jumped as he sat next to me, and he laughed. “Jumpy today, Satsu?”  
I shrugged. “Kinda. I keep hearing about this redhead. All day. Like, what’s going on?”  
A look crossed his face as he dug into the ramen I’d already ordered him. “Somethin’ about the Chuunin Exams. They’re here to take them, too, and I met him. He’s quiet, and kinda scary, I guess, but not really. I mean, he just seems like he’s angry, and lonely.” He was eating and talking at the same time. Must’ve been starving.  
I started to eat too. “Well, maybe we can help him. Help him fit it, or make him feel less . . . I don’t know, foreign here?”  
“How?” he asked, mouth full.  
Thoughts, ideas, ran through my brain, until one spilled out. “Oh, I’ve got it! How about a party—for all those who qualify for the Exams?”  
He blinked, then grinned. “That’s a great idea!”  
And that was how I found myself stalking the oh, so feared redhead and his team. I followed them for a couple hours, until I’d lost sight of them. It made me sigh irritably, until I turned around.  
Pale teal eyes rimmed in black met mine. “Why are you following us?” he asked, voice rough and deep.  
“Oh. I was actually trying to catch you, not follow, but you guys were walking too fast.” I grinned, and held out my hand. In my hand were three invitations. “Konoha’s Genin are throwing a party for everyone who qualified for the Chuunin Exams. Including the foreigners.” I put on my least dangerous smile. “I was chosen to give you your invitation because apparently, I’m the only one not afraid of you.” I tilted my head, shrugging slightly. “What’s so scary, I don’t know, but apparently, your team has given Konoha quite the fright.”  
“Is there going to be food there?” the brunette male asked.  
“Kankuro!” The blonde girl elbowed him.  
“Free food, free drinks, and party games. It’ll be fun.”  
The redhead was glaring at me, like he thought it was some sort of trap.  
“Oh, c’mon. Really, it’ll be fun. Nothing to be scared of. After all, it’s only Genin that are allowed to go. You guys are Genin, right?”  
“Of course,” the blonde snapped. “What else would we be?”  
I studied the redhead. He was just a bit shorter than I was, but thicker, more muscled. He also had the same eyes I’d seen reflected in the mirror, or on Naruto, before I’d befriended him. Naruto was right. The boy was alone, and angry. I centered my smile on him alone. “It’ll be fun, and I know I personally would be disappointed if you didn’t show. What’s the fun being the scariest person there, after all? It would be nice if some of the attention isn’t on me for once.”  
He still glared at me.  
I sighed. “You’ll miss out on some of the best foods in the world if you miss it.”  
The brunette snatched the invitations. “Oh, I’m coming.” His eyes flashed.  
The blonde took one. “I suppose it couldn’t be all bad. I mean, it’s a party.”  
I grinned, then realized something. My grin faded and I stared blankly ahead. ’With all the new Genin around, surely one more wouldn’t be noticed? Right?’  
“Hey—you okay?”  
“You look like you forgot something.”  
I blinked, then nodded. “Actually, not something, but someone. And I’d better get her invitation to her, or she’s going to kick my ass.” I smiled again. “Well, anyway, hope to see you there. I’ll be there.”  
An hour and some change later, I was walking around Konoha sans disguise. No Jutsu to hide me, no wig and contacts. Just myself. My long, pale golden hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail that bounced around me as I moved, and it felt odd to have my hair down, and out. It never was. Not even when I slept. And the years of it not seeing sunlight seemed to have turned it more pale. My pale blue eyes were free to be seen by all, and I was wearing something I hadn’t worn in many years. A dress. Though not like the one Mama would’ve made me wear—had she still been alive. No. She never would’ve approved of exposed shoulders and legs, though there was a ribbon around my throat.  
The white gown had puffy, off-the-shoulder sleeves, and ended just above my knees. The hem was ruffled, and flowy, and it made me feel weird to wear a dress. Even with the shorts underneath it. I was barefoot, as always—even as Shaiyar Matsumoto. I was always trained barefoot. It was customary. Because of that, I always found myself more comfortable without shoes, though I did wear white, elbow-length gloves.  
So. Walking around Konoha, no shoes. No disguise. Felt . . . odd. Yet still safe, as weird as that was.  
And that was how I was walking around when I encountered him a second time. I was alone, walking in the village center, toward the woods, when I met a pair of slightly hostile, but familiar, and oddly curious, eyes. He was watching me, with a strange look in his eyes, and I wondered vaguely if he recognized me. When I looked up to meet his eyes, he looked away, and I smiled slightly, wondering if I should approach him or not. He wasn’t alone. His teammates were still with him.  
What were they doing in the village center so long?  
Made me curious. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me again. His eyes were narrowed, and there was something almost like suspicion in them. I tilted my head, meeting his eyes again, and this time, he didn’t look away.  
I approached him, smiling slightly. “Hi.”  
He shifted uncomfortably, and his teammates looked toward me.  
I smiled again. “You’re the guy Satsugai-Sha was talking to earlier, aren’t you?”  
He blinked, eyes narrowing slightly, and I felt a slight start when I realized that as Satsugai-Sha, under the Jutsu, he may have been shorter, but as me, without the Jutsu, he was taller.  
It took me aback a moment, and I think he saw it in my eyes, because his hardened. I smiled, hoping to soften his eyes again. “You probably don’t know his name. The guy who invited you to the party? I got an invitation, too.” I didn’t have mine to show him. “He came to me right after you.”  
He didn’t answer, but I felt his unease grow.  
“Anyway, I’m. . . .” I hadn’t thought of a name. “Shai, Nice to meet you.” I offered my hand forward, though a large part of me suspected he wouldn’t shake my hand.  
He shifted uneasily. “Gaara.”  
“Nice to meet you, Gaara.”  
His eyes twitched. He tilted his head slightly, but didn’t say anything. I took the tilt as an indication he accepted my statement.  
I dropped my hand, shrugging. “Well, I do hope to see you at the party. It should be a lot of fun.” I smiled again. “Well, I should get going, but I hope to talk more at the party. Until then.” I smiled, winked, and turned, taking note of the slight redness to his face, and ran.  
I kept going until I reached the woods, then I stopped. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. It just felt nice to be me, to be open, and free, if even just for a bit.  
“Who are you?” A voice. A familiar voice. Yay.  
I turned in time to see Sasuke Uchiha, the person I hated most, drop from a tree. He and I had had 265 fights over the past few years, and 132 of those fights were my victor. 133 were his. I still had to win the next one. I fought hard against glaring at him. “It’s polite to introduce yourself before asking someone else’s name.”  
The wording made his eyes widen slightly. Or maybe it was the chill in my voice, or eyes. “I’m Uchiha, Sasuke. I don’t recall seeing you around here. Where’s your Hitai-ate?”  
I stiffened. “None of your business—and what makes you think I’m a Kunoichi?”  
“Well, the fact that you said Kunoichi instead of Shinobi or Ninja is a dead giveaway, but more because I can feel your Chakra readings.”  
I took a breath. I’d been suppressing my Chakra. Apparently not enough.  
“And then there’s the fact that you came through here in a speed I’ve only seen top Shinobi use before,” he added idly, stepping closer to me. “So . . . who are you?”  
I lifted my chin higher. “My name is of no concern to you, Uchiha, so go on doing whatever it is you need to do. Or I’ll show you how a Kunoichi raised in my village treats nosy little boys.”  
His eyes narrowed, and he stepped dangerously close to me. “You seem familiar. Have we met?”  
I clenched my mouth shut, and shook my head. He probably could recognize my voice if I talked too much—or my speech pattern. He was an Uchiha, after all.  
He reached forward, like he was about to touch me, and I deftly stepped back before he could, but not before his hand brushed my ear. “Pointed ears. I know someone like that.”  
I ducked away. “Leave me alone, you creep, before I lose it!”  
He rolled his eyes. “Cool it. I’m just curious where you’re from, because Satsugai-Sha has the same ears—though his are actually a lot smaller.” Thanks to the Jutsu his teammate helped me create. “I was just curious if you two could be from the same place.”  
“Doubt it,” I lied, “see as how I’m the only one in my family with them.”  
He looked me over, and I felt sure he’d blow my cover, but he turned away. “Whatever. I’ve more important things to do. . . .”  
I watched him retreat, then sighed, turning my back on him. I couple steps, and I tripped over something. The dress didn’t help me keep my balance, and I ended up sprawling in the dirt. Growling, I pushed myself to my knees. “That’s annoying. . . .” I felt someone behind me, and recognized the energy. Realizing the Uchiha must’ve come back for round two, I shook my head, and reached out to grab his hand without looking at him. “While you’re standing there uselessly, you could help me up,” I said, using his hand and the weight attached to it to help me right myself. Turning to yell at him again, I froze.  
Slightly wide, confused, pale teal eyes met mine.  
I dropped his hand, eyes widening, and backed away, hands held up. “I did not at all mean to grab you like that. I thought you were someone else.”  
He lifted his hand to stare at it questioningly, and I didn’t feel like waiting around to see his reaction.  
Something in my chest tightened, and my face was red when he looked up at me. I hadn’t even managed to move by the time he looked at me. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. I wouldn’t have done that if I’d known you were-weren’t who I thought you were.”  
He was still staring at me, eyes wide, confused. A slight bit of anger in those eyes made me want to back further away, but I didn’t dare move. Something about this entire encounter felt odd, like if I so much as twitched, he was going to lose it. I knew how that felt, so I didn’t move.  
He dropped his hand, still staring at me, and the tension mounted. The hostile, angry, alone look returned to his eyes, and I almost thought the moment had passed. Until I felt something moving around me.  
I tensed, chest tightening again, and resisted the urge to look every which way to find what was moving. It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t something—it was just power. His power. His power was thickening the air. Making it feel like water. I didn’t move, just concentrated on breathing evenly, and coolly met his eyes.  
The moment I met his eyes, the power fell, and he tensed, straightening slightly. A blink, and he took a step back. He turned without saying another word, and started to walk off.  
“Wait! I really am sorry. I know how pissed I would be if someone did that to me—but you came here for a reason, right?”  
He paused, listening.  
“If I’m in your way, and you want to be alone here, I’ll leave. No problem. But you’ve got to tell me that’s what you want.”  
He turned his head slightly to see me, but didn’t answer.  
I sighed, shifting my weight. “Obviously you came here for a reason. If you wanted to be here alone, I’ll leave you here alone. That’s not a problem. If,” I hedged, inching closer, “you came here because you need company, I can stay. But you’ve got to make that decision.”  
He turned his head more, eyes meeting mine. Confusion, something else. A slight tremor to his shoulders. He turned away. “I don’t need company.”  
I froze, slightly surprised he’d actually spoken. “Okay, okay, I get it.” Then it dawned on me that he’d said need in place of want. So had I. “I get it, you don’t need anything, but if you want company, that’s a different story. I don’t have to talk. We can just sit here in silence. Or I can ramble about anything until you tell me to shut up. Your choice.”  
A moment of silence. “Why?”  
“Because . . . you have the same eyes I did once.”  
He turned toward me, eyes seeking mine. “You aren’t afraid of me.”  
I shook my head. “You aren’t afraid of me, either.” Probably a bad choice.  
“I’m not afraid of anyone.”  
“I am,” I confided, stepping closer to him slowly. “I’m afraid of a lot of people.”  
“But not me,” he added. “You should be.”  
“Why? You haven’t hurt me.”  
At that, a flash went through his eyes. Sand suddenly rushed at me, and I didn’t move, completely certain he wouldn’t hurt me. There was something about the attack, and his eyes, that said he’d have hurt me more if I’d moved. So I stood in place, and watched the sand fly closer. It stopped an inch from me, and a tremor ran through him. Almost like it was hard to stop the attack. Everything froze as I met his eyes around the sand, and then it was gone. The sand slithered back to him, and he stood still, staring at me.  
The danger had passed—not that there had been any danger. “Know why I’m not afraid of you?”  
He tilted his head.  
“Because I’ve met real monsters,” I said softly.  
“I am a monster.”  
I smiled, walking closer to stand in front of him, looking up slightly to meet his eyes. “If you really think that, you haven’t seen the things I’ve seen.” With that, I brushed passed him. “I do hope you’ll be at the party! I’d love to continue this chat, but now, I do have to get ready. After all, there’s sand everywhere, and dirt, and my dress is ruined, so I guess I’ve got to go home to change. But if you’re at the party,” I turned to smile at him, “you should come find me.”  
Two or three hours later, I ended up at the party. I decided on a pair of black pants and a white, off the shoulder, flowy blouse. It seemed appropriate. I still wore the gloves, and the white ribbon around my neck. As Satsugai-Sha, I exposed the ugly scar around my neck, but as Shai, I couldn’t. And the gloves, well, they may always be a standard part of my uniform.  
They hid more scars.  
The party was in a large event hall. There was loud, pulsing music, and food and drinks, and lots of talking. It was almost more a dance than a party. I was there almost an hour before I met him again. I felt something moving behind me, felt a prickling of anticipation at the nape of my neck, and I turned, meeting familiar, pale teal eyes. I smiled, making my way toward him.  
He had a wide berth around him, and I gladly fell into that berth. I was tired of being pushed into and squished. “Hi! You made it, and you brought your own space! Awesome. It was getting annoying, being surrounded on all sides. So, I would apologize, but I’m not really sorry for stealing some of your space.”  
He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with a perplexed look on his face. Like I confused him. I confused everyone.  
“It’s less fun than I thought it would be, honestly. There’s too many people here, and the food is kinda gross, but whatever.” I shrugged. “It’s still worth it. We’re celebrating.”  
“I haven’t tried the food.”  
“You shouldn’t. I helped set up, and I snuck a few bites, and it was NOT worth it.” I cringed.  
He leant against the wall, crossing his arms. His eyes were scanning the room, like he was waiting for some hidden danger.  
“It’s safe here, I think. Safer now, with you here, because I’m gonna guess less people are gonna grab my ass.” I made a face and he looked at me. “I never realized how many perverted people lived in this village.”  
He blinked. “Safer with me?” he repeated. Then he blinked again, and tensed. “Grabbed your-”  
“Yup. Happened a few times, but I think as long as I stick near you, it’s all good.”  
I spoke too soon, because as he opened his mouth to say something, someone grabbed my arm and whirled me around. Slowly enough that I saw his eyes narrow, shoot behind me, and he pushed himself away from the wall. A boy I recognized leaned over me. Isao. I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue to keep from saying my usual threat. “What do you want?”  
“I want a dance. Does that sound nice? Dance with me.” He pulled me toward him as I struggled—sand pushed past me to push at him.  
“Leave her alone,” the redhead growled, coming to stand behind me. The sand curled around us.  
Isao looked back at him, eyes wide. “Really? You’re gonna choose some lowlife degenerate over-”  
Gaara didn’t have time to react that time. I punched him. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that! He’s the only one in this village who has been respectful to me since I’ve been here! And he’s not even from this village!”  
“He’s a fucking nut—how do you not see that?” He grabbed my arm again, trying to pull me out of the sand. “Come, let’s dance. I’ll show you how a real man acts.”  
“Like a pig,” I snorted, snatching at my hand—my glove came off in the attempt, and my eyes widened. I froze. “N-no,” I breathed, backing away. I wrapped my hand in my shirt. “G-give me my glove.”  
He held it up, looking at it, then waved it around. “If you want it,” he said, waving it more, “give me a kiss.”  
I glared at him, then reached for the glove. “Either you give it to me, or you’re going to regret it!”  
He held it above my hand, laughing—until sand snatched it from him. He snarled, diving to grab it back from the sand. “That’s mine, you bastard. Leave it alone!”  
“No, that’s mine! Give it back!” My panic was mounting, and suddenly everything froze. There was a deep pulse through the air, and everyone turned to look at me. “Give it back, Isao,” I said softly. “Give. It. Back.”  
“Hey, honey, come and play for it,” he said snidely.  
I was trembling. I couldn’t stop it.  
“You know what, since both of you want it so damn bad, here!” And he tore it open, from the sleeve, to the tip of the fingers. He tossed one half at both of us. “You can have it, you frigid-”  
Another pulse. I closed my eyes, trying to clench my hand in my shirt. I felt the power from my hand starting to cut at my skin already. Blood dropped onto the floor, and I backed away, bumping into something. I whirled, panic forcing my eyes wide, and stumbled back—only to see Gaara standing there, eyes almost as wide as mine. “I-I’m sorry,” I choked, backing away. “Y-you need to go. All of you. All of you need to go—RIGHT NOW!” I’d screamed the last bit, closing my eyes again. A third, and final, pulse ran through the air, and I lost it.   
The next thing that ran through the air was not a pulse. It was a violent, powerful wind. Ripping straight through the air, from my hand, from me. It widened out and the building cracked.  
I met his pale teal eyes. “Run,” I begged him. “Please. Get away from me.” He stepped toward me, like he was trying to help. “Get away from me!” Another current of air ran through the room, this one stronger. My hair whipped up around me, and I heard quite a few people hit the floor. The building let out another crack, and I winced. There was something wrong with him, though. There was no fear in his eyes. There should be fear there. He should be afraid—he should be running. “Please,” I choked, barely able to breathe. The pain was beginning. I was trying to force my power back, force it into me, and it was cutting at me now.   
Sharp pains in my ungloved hand made me look down at it. Blood was dripping from it, running down my arm. I faced my palm down, hoping to slow the damage to others doing that. The blood dripped onto the floor. I looked up. People were staring at me. At my hand. At the scar around my wrist. At me.  
At me.  
‘I’m still a monster,’ I realized, shaking. The wind sliced into my arm, into the hand trying desperately to cup my ungloved hand. I couldn’t stop it. I looked around desperately, meeting pale teal eyes, and made another realization.   
‘I can’t stop this. But . . . maybe he can.’   
His eyes widened. He took a step back. Whatever he’d seen in my eyes, he didn’t like.   
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and centered myself. When I opened my eyes, and met his, I felt it. Fear. Would it hurt to die? How would he do it? I took another deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I told him, slowly raising my palm. “You have to stop me, before I kill someone.”   
His eyes widened, then narrowed. He shook his head slightly.  
“You have to stop me, Gaara. Before I kill everyone here.” I was still slowly raising my hand. “I-I’m sorry.” I froze, hand almost pointed at him. “You know the real reason I’m not afraid of anyone?” I asked, tilting my head.   
He let out a sound. “Why?” he asked, voice slightly thick.   
“Because I’m the real monster.” And I pointed my hand at him.


	2. Prologue: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of the prologue. There may be more.

His eyes widened slightly, and I felt bad. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, closing my eyes. I unleashed the power I’d been trying to aim at myself onto him.  
A grunt, then a gasp. And I opened my eyes. Everyone who’d been anywhere near him had been blown completely out of the way. He’d staggered back a step, but he still stood—and I found myself both impressed and pleased. If he could still stand in this wind, then there was a good chance he could finish it.  
And then I frowned. He had his hand to his cheek, and it took me a minute to realize why. From underneath his fingers, dark red blood oozed. ‘I cut him.’  
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, too soft for him to hear over the roar of the wind. “Stop me, please. Please stop me.”  
He looked up at me, hand falling away from his cheek. His hand was coated in blood, and his cheek was soaked. He didn’t move for a minute, only stared at me with wide eyes. Confused, yet angry eyes. He didn’t like seeing his own blood, I knew that. But something in him was still conflicted.  
I’d change that. “Stop me, Gaara, or I’ll kill you,” I told him evenly, pushing my power toward him.  
A barrier of sand rose to greet the wind that ripped through the air toward him. Slashes appeared in the barrier, but it didn’t break. I was impressed. And angry.  
“You can’t stop me by guarding,” I reminded him. “You have to fight me.” To punctuate my words, I shoved my power at him, palm raised toward him. Wind burst from my palm, slicing at my hand as it did, and I focused it entirely on that barrier. It slashed at the barrier, and I pushed further, walking forward—  
And suddenly, sand was shoving me back. I felt the wall at my back, hitting it hard. My breath caught, and I sat there, stunned, for a moment. Sand broke through the wall, and I stood again, only to be thrown through the hole in the wall.  
Actually, thrown was incorrect. More like forcibly carried. My winds ripped at the sand, and it fell away slowly, only to be replaced by more sand.  
He jumped out of the hole he’d created, and another burst of sand came at me. A larger burst. It curled around me, threw me. He followed, floating on his own pedestal. He kept forcing me back until we were deep in the woods, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He’d kept me from killing anyone—purposely or not, he had. He stopped in the middle of the clearing, staring at me. The blood had dried on his cheek. “Don’t make me hurt you.”  
“I was just about to say the same to you,” I said softly. “Don’t you see, Gaara?” I stood, brushing the sand off me. “I can’t stop. You have to stop me.”  
He glanced at my hand, and a steely determination stole over his face. Sand whipped at me, and I raised my hand. A bladed gust of wind cut through the sand, and I surged forward, throwing my power with me. He fell back, sand raising to defend against the bladed wind.  
My wind cut through the sand quickly, faster, and faster, as I got closer, and a grunt made me pause—not my winds, just me. He’d been struck again by the winds, and there was a rip in his sleeve that showed another bloody gash. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.  
He lunged forward, sand following obediently. It flowed around me, at me, and I had a second to remember that I wanted to hurt him enough that he wanted to kill me.  
My eyes closed. I tensed. I breathed a sigh that was saturated with the words, “I’m sorry,” and forced my palm upward, toward him. The winds ripping from my hand was cutting into my skin. Blood tainted the winds as it flew toward him, strengthening the wind. It ripped through his barrier, and through his skin. He made a small, angered sound, and I pushed forward more, throwing everything I had into my wind. Every bit of power I could summon up.  
Sand rose beneath me, and I was swallowed in it. A moment of defeat, of contentment, because my hand was caught, and then the winds ripped through the sand. More sand covered me, and he threw me. I hit something, something hard, but not hard enough to stop me.  
And I realized he wasn’t trying to kill me. I had abrasions, bruises, and my rip kinda hurt where his sand had grabbed me, but I wasn’t wounded enough. He wasn’t trying to kill me. I didn’t know what he was trying to do, but it wasn’t that.  
I needed to change that. “You can’t stop me,” I yelled over the wind. “Not without my glove. You have to kill me.”  
A look flashed in his eyes. A slight shake of his head.  
I needed to change that.  
Once again pointing my palm at him, I threw everything I had at him. The giant gust of wind that came from my palm swallowed the ground around him, whipping it into an even deadlier form of wind, and trees uprooted from their homes. Instead of blocking like he’d been doing, he dodged, jumping high into the air—but not high enough to dodge.  
My eyes widened a moment before I realized what he was doing. He came down hard, just a couple feet from me, and I had a moment to meet his eyes. He’d jumped through my wind to get to me, and though his barrier had managed to stop most of the damage, he had a few bloody gashes on his arms and chest, and one more across his throat. I didn’t have a moment to react fast enough before he lunged forward. He hesitated, though, and that hesitation gave me an opportunity to really sink it home that he had to kill me.  
I shoved my ungloved fist into his stomach.  
He grunted, thrown back, and I had a moment to see a hole in his shirt revealing a lot of small, bleeding cuts. Some deep, some not. Rage flew into his eyes, and I had a second to feel satisfied—then I was thrown backward, into something hard.  
Hard enough that everything went black. 

He stared at her, breathing a bit hard. He hadn’t expected her to attack him. He hadn’t expected her to be able to wound him. While the wounds did enrage him, he couldn’t seem to land a killing blow to the girl. If he had, he had a feeling he could’ve ended it awhile ago.  
Actually, he knew he could have.  
Yet he hadn’t.  
Even the beast hadn’t wanted to end her.  
“There you are! Gaara!”  
“Gaara, are you all right?!”  
The voices of his siblings made him cringe. He had wanted a few more minutes alone while he collected his thoughts.  
He hadn’t wanted to kill her.  
They stopped beside him, staring down at the still girl. There wasn’t much blood on her, mostly from scrapes, and one bloody wound on the back of her head, and the lack of blood made both freeze. It was unusual when he had more blood on him than the victim—at least, more blood that actually came from him.  
“What happened?” his sister asked.  
He winced slightly, then knelt by the girl.  
His brother froze, seeing the steady rise and fall of her chest. “You didn’t kill her.”  
He shook his head silently, staring at the sand the wrapped so snugly around her arm. There was a part of him that knew he could easily eliminate the threat by crushing her arm, but. . . .  
He still didn’t want to. He couldn’t.  
“What happened?” his sister asked again.  
“She attacked me.”  
“We saw that.”  
He’d come up with the idea right after she said he couldn’t stop her without her glove. It was the glove that stopped her from losing control. It was something covering her hand. So he’d knocked her out to cover her hand with his sand. A more permanent idea was beginning to take form, but he didn’t want to crush her hand. There had to be another solution.  
“Why didn’t you kill her?”  
“I didn’t want to.”  
“She attacked you. That would’ve been self-defense!” his sister pointed out. “If you don’t kill her, what’s to say she won’t attack again?”  
He glanced at her, a little surprised by her insistence on killing the girl. “She won’t,” he said with certainty.  
“What makes you so sure of that?”  
She was moving. A small sound came from her throat. A soft sound. Almost like a whimper. Her eyes opened. Pale blue, the color of ice. She blinked, slightly groggy. “Mm?”  
“Welcome back,” he said to her.  
Her eyes widened, and she shot up, only for her eyes to roll back and her to fall backward. “Oww,” she groaned.  
“Should kill her now,” his brother said.  
“Careful,” he said, reaching for her gloved hand.  
She grasped his hand, eyes clenched closed, and let him pull her to a sitting up position. “What happened?”  
“I knocked you out.”  
Her eyes opened. She met his eyes, hers wide. “Y-you didn’t kill me. Why? If you don’t, I’m going to kill you. Don’t you see?”  
He gestured to her hand. “Your hand is covered.”  
She blinked, then stared down at the sand that coated her hand almost like a glove. She lifted her hand, flexing it, surprised when it moved with her. “You made a sand glove. . . .”  
A small nod.  
“The moment it’s gone, I’m going to lose control again.” A look crossed her face. “I need my glove.”  
A thought crossed his mind. He pulled his own fingerless, black leather, worn glove off, and used his sand to pull her hand around so he could slip the glove on over the sand. Once the glove was on, he let the sand fall back, and secured the glove. It was large on her, but it would do. “Will that work?”  
She studied the glove. It was worn, with many creases in it, as old leather gets, but it covered her hand, and the scar on her wrist. A small nod. “Yes, but . . . what about you?”  
He shrugged. “I don’t need them to keep control.”  
Chagrin colored her face red. “I-I’m sorry. I thought—I didn’t think—with all I’d heard about you, I never thought it would be possible for me to hurt you.” She reached up with her white-gloved hand, reached for the dried blood on his cheek without thinking about it. She was rubbing the blood off before she realized what she was doing. “Oh. Sor-sorry.” She looked away, hand dropping, face red.  
“It’s fine,” he told her.  
She looked at him again. “You need medical attention. . . .”  
“I’m fine.”  
She shifted, pulling her dress to her upper thigh, where she had something strapped. A first aid kit. She noticed his look and smiled slightly. “Always carry one. Never know when you’re gonna need it.” She chuckled nervously. “Especially when you can’t keep control.” She opened it, pulling out bandages, and a jar of salve. “It’ll sting a bit,” she said, unscrewing the lid, “but it’ll really work.” She used the hand with the fingerless glove he’d given her to rub some salve onto her fingers, then hesitated. “I-I don’t-”  
He held out his hand, unafraid. “Go ahead.”  
She met his eyes, then looked down at his hand. Covered in small, bleeding cuts. Her face reddened again. “I’m so sorry. I never would’ve chosen you if I’d known I could hurt you.” She gently rubbed the salve into the cuts, then rubbed more salve onto the cut on his cheek, upper arm, and throat. “Here.” She offered the jar to him. “I’m sure you’d rather do the rest yourself.”  
He could, he assumed, but he didn’t want to. He handed it back to her. “Are you going to bandage it?”  
“You should, yes.”  
“I wouldn’t know how to do that.”  
“I know how-”  
He shot his sister a look.  
The small blond smiled, and unwrapped the wraps. “Hand?”  
He hesitated. “Hold on.” He stood, worked the jacket off, then his shirt before sitting back down. “Go ahead.”  
A slight blush on her face, she worked on putting salve on his wounds, then bandaging him. “I’m sor-”  
“I’ll knock you out again if you say sorry one more time.”  
She smiled slightly. “I’m still sorry.”  
He sent her a look.  
She laughed, then sobered. “Why didn’t you kill me?” she asked, wrapping his abdomen.  
He shrugged.  
“That’s not an answer.”  
“I didn’t want to kill you.”  
“Oh.” A pause. “Did you purposely get me away from the event hall, and the people in it?” A slight, curt nod. She smiled again. “My hero.”  
A slight redness crept into his face. “I’m not a hero.”  
“Oh, but you are. Really. Think about it. If I’d still been there when I went crazier, a lot of people would’ve died. You saved a lot of lives.” She smiled wider, sitting in front of him once finished. “So, therefore, you’re my hero.”  
He grunted, rolling his eyes, reaching for his shirt as he stood. Pulling it on, he watched her shift, and felt the need to say something more. “Don’t do that,” he said softly.  
She looked up at him. “Don’t do what?”  
“Call yourself a monster.”  
A look crossed her face. “But you think you are one.”  
“I am, but you aren’t.”  
She stood, meeting his eyes as he yanked his jacket on. “If you were a monster, you would’ve let those people die, or you would’ve killed me. Which, in all honesty, you should’ve. I hurt you, after all.”  
He shrugged, not really sure what to say.  
“Anyway, thank you. Thank you so much. I appreciate everything you’ve done. Keeping me from killing people, not killing me when you should’ve, and the glove.” She raised her hand, clothed in his glove. “I’ll get it back to you once I have one of my own again.”  
He shook his head, turning away. “Keep it. It’s yours.”  
“But-”  
He shot her a look. “I said keep it.”  
And she smiled at him.


	3. Prologue Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating from my phone. Sorry for any typos of any sort.

I stared at the black leather glove, chewing on my bottom lip. _Why would he help me?_

I continued walking, seeking out the Chakra signature of the one person I needed to speak to. Shai would disappear as soon as the Chuunin Exams were over, and I felt horrible over what I did to Gaara, so I felt the need to explain myself. 

It didn't take long to find him. Actually, I walked into him, almost. I smiled. "Hey."

He nodded slightly. 

I shifted my weight, hesitant. I'd never spoken about what I was about to with anyone. Ever. 

He was silent as he watched me fidget. 

"Gaara, I-" I paused, unsure of how to bring this up. "I feel like I owe you an explanation. About why, what happened. What caused it." 

He tilted his head. "Go on." 

Sitting down, and urging him to do the same, I pulled the glove he'd given me to my wrist, exposing the scar to him. A small flash, then I covered it. "I lose control when my hands are exposed because of that scar."

He glanced up at me from my wrist, then slowly reached forward to grasp my wrist. 

I winced slightly, and he glanced up at me, but I let him pull the glove up, up--stopping him when he almost pulled it completely off. "Don't," I said softly. 

He met my eyes. "Just . . . trust me." 

I met his eyes for a long time, feeling mine flicker between fear and grief, then nodded, looking away to close my eyes. I didn't want to see his reaction when he saw my hand.

Sand covered my palm, around the back of my hand, but other than that, my hand was naked to his eyes. A few seconds passed, and he stroked his finger across the scar around my wrist. 

I winced, gasping, trying to pull my hand from his. His hands tightened, and I let out another small sound. 

He paused. "Does it hurt?" 

I shook my head. "Not exactly. It's just tender." I chanced a small glance up at him. No disgust, just curiosity. Some fear, almost. "Nobody's ever touched there before," I explained. 

A small nod. His touch became lighter. "Both hands?" 

I nodded. 

"How did you get them?"

I hesitated. "It was part of my training," I began. "In my family, we have a certain Kekkei Genkai. It's called Fujin no Yashi." _Palms of Fujin, the wind God._ "Basically, powerful winds come from our hands, and if we can't control it, it eventually would kill us. The small cuts on me? It's my own power attacking me. 

"See, the Kekkei Genkai is rare in our family. And it usually pops up when we're older. Mine, I was born with it. And because of that, it made me more powerful, and made me dangerous and uncontrollable. So my dad put me into training at a young age. He once told me he hoped I'd die in training. 

"Because I was an unusually powerful case, they also experimented other types of training, to help learn more about the Kekkei Genkai, and our power. One of those experiments was how to contain its power. And our family has a high allergy to metal. 

"That was the way they found would contain the power of the Kekkei Genkai best. Each of us has one metal that affects us most. Mine is iron. So they crafted iron gloves for me to wear constantly. 

"They were also trying to find a way to strengthen the Kekkei Genkai, using me to do so. The iron gloves had a device in them that would pump a strengthening chemical into my hands constantly. It worked on strengthening me, but cancelled out the chemical they used to help me gain control. 

"These gloves were on me constantly. So much so that by the time they were taken off, it was only because they were too small and were cutting into my skin. Hence the scars. And seeing those scars, plus the shock of not having anything on my hands, it makes me lose control." 

Silence, for several seconds. "Does your father still make you train like that?" 

I shook my head. "No. He's gone now. So is my mom." 

"Good," he spat harshly. 

I glanced up at him then. 

"He wanted to kill you."

I nodded. "He always said I was a danger to them. He was right, really." 

"You don't look so dangerous to me."

I stared pointedly at his cheek, though the cut had already healed. 

He tightened his hand around my wrist slightly. "You didn't hurt me." 

"I bled you."

"I'm alive," he pointed out. 

I stared at him. "Why do you defend me, even to myself?" 

He jerked, then, and am uncertain look crossed his face. "I don't know," he admitted softly. 

I smiled. "Either way, thank you." I smiled wider. "And thanks for listening."

 

The Chuunin Exams were supposed to begin tomorrow. It had been a rough couple of days. I felt emotional, and raw, and confused. Scared. 

And I was once again alone when he found me, atop a building. I was crying. 

Footsteps behind me. They paused, and I stood, whirling. 

Gaara stood there. 

I wiped at the tears quickly, not wanting my friend to see me cry. "Oh. Hey, Gaara. Sorry. What are you doing up here?" 

He peered at me suspiciously. 

"What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"I never told you my name."

I blinked. "What? Are you okay? Of course I did. We were just talking about my dad a few hours ago." 

"No," he said coolly, "we weren't." 

I froze, eyes widening. My hands flew up to my hair, and I gasped when I felt short hair against my hands. _My Jutsu!_  

His eyes narrowed. "Shai?" 

I shook my head. "Sorry, I mistook you for someone else." 

"So. You _are_ Satsugai-Sha." His voice was soft. As if he'd known all along. 

"No, Gaara, I-"

"Why?"

In my panicked state, there was only one way out. He had to kill me. "I'm sorry, Gaara,"  I said softly, readying my fighting crouch, "I can't let you get away knowing this." 

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "I am not going to fight you." 

I started to pull my glove off. Sand covered both hands like a glove, and I tensed. "Gaara. I can't let you know this." 

Nothing. 

I yanked a kunai from my thigh sheath. "You won't kill me?" 

One pale, almost invisible brow rose. "You know that kunai won't get through my shield." 

"That would be a problem," I said softly, "if I were aiming for you." I shoved the kunai into my own thigh.

His eyes widened.

After yanking it out, I stabbed it deep into my arm, yanking it downward. I fell to my knees, gasping from pain. "If you won't kill me, I have no choice." 

Sand blocked kunai from plunging into my stomach, and I smiled wearily. The sand brought the kunai to him, and he held it in his hand. "I won't let you kill _yourself_ , either." 

I forced myself to my feet. "Sorry, but I can't let anyone know the truth." I stepped toward him, then coated my hand in my own blood. "I am sorry for this." I splattered the blood into his clothes, and he winced, stepping back. I threw my own blood into the sand wrapped around my hands. 

He pulled the sand back. "What are you doing?" he asked warily. 

"You may not kill me, but is anyone going to believe that?" His eyes widened, and I took his momentary confusion to escape. 

I left his there, on the building saturated in my blood, with his sand tainted with my blood. 

And I left Konoha to believe I'd died at his hands. V


	4. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a decade has passed at this point. They're in their early twenties. Gaara, twenty three. Shaiyar, twenty two. Lots of things have happened in that decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Sorry it's short.

"Kankuro, I don't have time for this," the redhead complained, lagging as the brunette led him to the small restaurant. 

"Gaara," he began in a bored tone, "you're always working. You never actually eat anymore."

"I eat." He sent his brother a look. 

Kankuro pushed the doors open. "Thirty minutes of not working won't kill you. Or Suna." 

He followed his older brother to an empty table. "Not gonna wait for the hostess to seat us?" 

He shook his head. "Nope. Never do. They know me here." 

"Of course they do."

He caught sight of Aimee, his usual waitress, and waved with a grin. 

She smiled at him, waving back before turning to another table. 

His smile fell. "She always waits on me." 

"Maybe she's tired of your constant flirting," his brother pointed out, studying the menu he'd grabbed when he'd passed the hostess podium. 

"Yea, right. She loves my flirting!"

"Sure she does."

"Hi! My name is Shaiyar, and I'll be your waitress this afternoon!" a soft, feminine voice said from their other side. 

Both brothers jumped slightly as they turned toward her. Neither had heard her approach. Kankuro stared at her. "You must be new. I've never seen you here before." 

At that, Gaara studied her. Long, pale golden hair pulled into a high, tight ponytail, away from a face with high cheekbones, a triangular jaw and chin set, a small, upturned noise, and crimson, full lips. Pale blue eyes met his, sending a chill down his spine. 

She was familiar, though he knew he'd never seen the girl in the village before. Ever. 

"You're new to the village, aren't you?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, I am. How'd you know?" 

"Does the Kazekage know you're here?" he asked softly. 

"Gaara," his brother admonished, sighing when he didn't switch his attention away. 

She tensed slightly, but nodded, smiling again. "Of course!" 

"Really?" His voice was smooth. He created a steeple with his hands upon which to rest his chin. 

"Of course. I would never enter any village without permission. I even got the confirmation letter before I came here."

"Did you, now?" His voice was still smooth. "Then why don't I recall seeing your file, or sending you a confirmation letter?" 

She tensed again, breath coming out sharply. "I swear, I did. Here." She dug into her apron pocket. "I just started the job today, so I had to have the letter to begin." She pulled the letter from her pocket, handing it to him. 

He took it. 

"Jeez, Gaara, can't you go anywhere without working? "

He looked over the letter, ignoring his brother. Yes, that was his signature. Yes, that was the proper seal of the village. Yes, this letter seemed real. But he had no memory of it, or the information in it. "So, Shaiyar Tanaka, why don't I remember sending this?" 

She shifted. "I-I really don't know. I got it a week ago and came here right after." She held her hands up. "I swear." 

He studied the girl, taking in her short stature, and tried to remember where he'd seen her. Those pale blue eyes. . . . The ears. 

Hm. 

"So, my order would be-"

"Your usual." She smiled. "Cheese steak, followed by sweet dumplings, with pork fried rice and green tea. Right?" 

Eyes a little wide, he nodded. "Yes, that's right." 

"Aimee taught me all the regular customers and their usuals."

"Quick learner. "

"Yes," she grinned, "I am." 

"I'll have salted tongue, and jasmine tea."

She nodded. "Dessert?" 

"I'll let you know."

 

 

 


	5. Chapter Two: What Goes Bump in The Night?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe. Updating from my phone again so it will once again be short and probably littered with typos. Sorry!!  
> If you haven't already, go back to check the new updates for the chapters. Since, you know, I changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos. I just have to update from my phone for awhile. I hope SOMEONE appreciates my dedication!!!!!

I couldn't stop shaking. I was kicking myself for not checking the damn confirmation letter before now. For not seeing the signature I'd worked so I hard and paid so much for. 

Staring at it now, I _really_ wanted to kick myself. How stupid could I be to have _not_ checked it beforehand? What if it hadn't looked real enough? What would I have done then when the one person I never wanted to run into walked into my place of employment?

Run for my life, most likely. In more ways than one. He probably would try to kill me if he ever saw me again. 

And how in the hell had I not known he was the Kazekage?! 

Ugh. Sloppy, Shai, sloppy. Very. 

That, and arrogant. Arrogant to think it would be that easy. But c'mon, why the hell would the freaking Kazekage come to such a small, hole in the wall restaurant? He could go anywhere. Not some cheap, kinda dinghy place where the most expensive thing was thirteen bucks. 

Ugh. 

Maybe I'm cursed. 

Every cell in my being told me to run like hell and never look back, but I couldn't. My dad would never look here. Even if he found out where I was, he would never come here. Never. He was terrified of the current Kazekage. 

Who just so happened to be the man I had once framed for murder. 

 _My_ murder _._

Ugh. Again. 

So much ugh. 

"Shaiyar, you okay?"

I jerked, blinking up at Aimee. "Huh?" 

She smiled kindly. "You've been staring at the wall for twenty minutes now. I told you, you can go home now. Your shift is over." 

I winced at hearing those words. Something in my chest tightened at the thought of leaving the safety of the restaurant. 

"Hey." She gently touched my arm. I met concerned brown eyes. "Your first day is always hectic." She smiled. "I would know." 

 _Did the man you framed your murder on come in on your first day, too?_ I wanted to ask. I didn't. I just smiled. "I'm just tired. Really. Long day." 

She smiled at me again. It was annoying how much she smiled. "Of course. Unpacking your stuff must be tiresome." 

A nod. "It is. I guess I'll get back to it." I smiled, a bright, fake smile, one that would make Sai proud, and took my apron off. Handing it to her, I wished her a good night, and walked out of the restaurant.

A few steps, then, "About time. Your shift ended twenty minutes ago."

_That voice. . . ._

I tensed, turning slowly. My eyes fell on a broad, muscular chest clothed in a thin black shirt and an equally thin, long sleeved dark crimson vest/jacket. I looked up, up, into pale teal, black-rimmed eyes. 

After a second of panicked staring, I remembered that I was a civilian, and he was the Kazekage, and I dropped my eyes. "Kazekage-Sama, I didn't know you were  waiting." 

"I didn't want you to know," he said simply, voice deeper than I remembered. "When I returned to my office, I searched everywhere for your paperwork, and found nothing. That, coupled with the fact I have no memories of ever seeing your file, made me think I should check in with you again." 

I winced, not meeting his eyes. "I apologise, Kazekage-Sama, but I have no explanation for you. I did receive a confirmation letter."

"Yes,  I saw that," he said rather bitingly. 

I winced again. "How can we rectify this? Do I have to leave and reapply?" 

"As I did examine your letter and it did seem to be authentic, I can't force you to leave." I let out a small, relieved breath. "However, I also can't allow an unidentified person to person to walk around unsupervised." 

"So what do you wish me to do?" I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. 

He studied me a moment, then slipped his jacket off and tossed it over my shoulders. "You will come to my office tomorrow at eight AM to do an interview. If I detect any lies in your answers, I will investigate your background thoroughly." 

_Investigate. Like you'd find any answers other than the ones I'd give. I don't half ass shit._

Nevertheless, I nodded, slipping my arms into the jacket. "I might have to work-" 

"I checked with your employers already. You have the morning off and don't work until noon." He turned away from me, started to walk away. "You'll likely be with me until then so I hope you haven't got anywhere else to be." 

I watched him walk away, remembering long ago when I probably would've laughed at his stoic attitude. 

Now, I merely crossed my fingers and hoped he was as lax as Tsunade had been. 

 

Eight AM, I was standing outside his office, twisting my hands together. I was unusually nervous. I'd never been as nervous in any previous mission before. I'd always gotten in, done what needed done, and left before anyone was the wiser. 

Then again, I'd never been anywhere I was planning to permanently stay before, either. I mean, outside of Konoha. And I'd interviewed with Tsunade, so it hadn't been as nerve wracking. She hadn't met me before the interview. 

Unlike Gaara, she had never met Satsugai-Sha. Or Shai. 

And he'd met both. 

Why hadn't I chosen a different name? 

Shaiyar Tanaka. It didn't take a genius to realize Shai was short for Shaiyar. 

The only saving grace was that it had been almost a decade. Nine years and some months. Maybe he wouldn't remember. 

I was pacing back and forth when the door opened. My eyes snapped up to meet his. I froze, unsure of what to do or say. 

"You're late," was all he said before turning and walking deeper into his office. I stepped inside just in time to see him sit behind a desk. Piled with paperwork. 

I sat in the chair placed in front of it, ignoring my trembling. I folded his jacket across my lap. "Actually, I was here on time. I was just-" 

"Scared?" His eyes fell to my hands, and I realized they were still shaking. 

I took a deep breath and decided to play my nerves in my favour. "To be honest, Kazekage-Sama, I am a bit scared." I smiled the way Hinata used to smile at Naruto. "I have wanted to move to Suna for a long time, and I'm afraid some missing paperwork is going to screw all my plans up." All true. 

"Plans?" he repeated. 

I nodded. "I want to build a life here," I said honestly. "A good life, uncomplicated, safe. A place I could raise children if I so choose." All but the children thing was true. I had no intention of having children. "And already, it's becoming complicated." 

"That's why you're here, to uncomplicate matters."

"I'll do that any way I can," I promised. I meant it. 

"Good, then you won't mind answering questions."

An hour or two passed by as he asked question after question, and asked me to elaborate every answer. 

Then, "You said you were from a small village in Hidden In the Clouds, but that you weren't born there. There's also no mention of your parents. Why is that?" 

"When I was very young, I was taken from my parents." Once again, an honest answer. 

"And your parents' names are?"

I hadn't prepared an answer for that, or anything to back it up. I shook my head. "I don't recall seeing that in the application." 

His eyes met mine. "Their names?"

"I don't see what this has to do with anything." 

"Call it curiosity."

"Simple curiosity isn't a reason for me to divulge my parents' names."

"It is today."

I knew that tone. I sighed. "I apologise, my parents and I aren't. . . . Well, it's a sore subject." I shifted. "My parents were Amiya and Takeshi Tanaka." I stiffened slightly when I realized I'd given my mom's real name. 

His eyes flashed. I had a feeling he'd caught me in a lie. He didn't call me out. "What reason were you taken from your parents?"

I tensed. "I definitely know that question want on the application." 

 "It wasn't." 

"Then I'd rather not answer."

"That's not an option."

I met his eyes, mine cooling considerably. I really hadn't wanted to get into this area. 

His eyes hardened slightly. Something thick moved through the air, but he didn't move. 

 _Power_ , I realized. _He's trying to intimidate me._

Pride demanding I meet his challenge, I realized while _I_ may have had the training to challenge him, Shaiyar Tanaka, a civilian, did not. I dropped my eyes, shifting uncomfortably. "My father went crazy and tried to kill me." 

A moment of silence. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." He sounded sincere. "And you were moved from home to home after that?" 

"Yes. I wanted to come to Suna for a fresh start." I filled my face with excitement. "A place nobody knew my name. A place I'd never been. A place I didn't have to be poor Shaiyar, the unfortunate orphan."

"And you plan to stay permanently?" 

I nodded, though now I was already planning an escape. "Yes, I want to stay. To build a new life." 

His eyes flashed again. "I see." 

"I mean, I-I'll leave, if that will make things easier. Reapply for citizenship." If he let me go without any questions asked, I would go, but something told me he wasn't going to do that. And maybe that was because he knew I would not reapply. 

Though I really did want to stay. It was the safest I'd felt in years. 

There was that flash in his eyes again. "Not at all. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer if you don't leave the village at all until all this is straightened out." 

I smiled brightly. "That would be easily arranged. I've nowhere else to go." True. "Thank you, Kazekage-Sama." 

He stood. "I think I've got all the information I need." He paused. "Except one small thing." 

"Anything, Kazekage-Sama."

"Your confirmation letter stated you'd gotten a physical upon entering the village. I have no paperwork to back that up. Nor do my medics. I am going to arrange you a physical with my personal medic." His eyes met mine. "If you miss it, I wouldn't want to be you." 


	6. Chapter Three: Lost in The Desert.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaiyar decides trying to stay in Suna is too stressful, and she decides, once again, to fake her own death. Gaara has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still updating from my phone. If anyone is wondering why I'm not updating my DBZ story through my phone, it's because it was pre-written on my laptop, unlike my other two. So I get to make this one and my HP one up as I go, but my DBZ one cannot be updated through my phone unless I want to rewrite it, and I don't, so I'll have to update it when I get my laptop to WiFi.

 

 

I tapped my boot against the ground, testing the new boots’ fit. They were nice. Expensive. I’d spent a lot of my saved money on them, with the plans of not coming back here. My new backpack was filled with new equipment, and I wore new clothes for the adventure.  

          After two weeks of asking about a nearby oasis that _technically_ was still considered Suna territory, I finished my plans. I was going to go out there, stage a sandstorm—it wouldn’t be too hard, would it? With my powers of wind release? And stage my death—again.

          “I thought I’d made it clear that you weren’t to leave Suna until everything was settled?”

          _That voice. . . . No. . . ._

          I whirled, widened eyes finding the source of my panic.

          The Kazekage stood a couple feet away, arms crossed, eyes hard. “Where _exactly_ do you think you’re going?”

          I tried to talk, but my voice didn’t come. It took a minute for me to clear my suddenly dry throat. “There’s an oasis I wanted to check out. There are supposed to be some good caves near it. I thought it would be fun.”

          “Ah, yes. I heard about your curiosity about the caves.”

          “And,” I continued, voice slightly louder, “I did some research, and it is inside Suna limits,” I smiled, “so I won’t actually be leaving Suna.”

          “Hm,” he murmured softly. His eyes were burning slightly. “And this,” he gestured to me, “is how you plan to go into the desert?”

          I looked down at myself. Thigh-length shorts, crop top that ended two inches below my breasts, knee-high boots, and my ever-constant gloves. “What’s wrong with it?”

          He made a small sound, low in his throat. “Nothing, if you want to get a sunburn.”

          “I don’t burn,” I told him, lifting my chin high. “I don’t tan, either.”

          “You’ve never been in the desert before,” he said softly. I realized then, when he turned slightly, that instead of his usual gourd, he wore a backpack.

          My brow rose. “What are you doing?”

          He let out a deep sigh. “You’ve no idea how to survive in the desert, and I have a couple free days. I’m going with you.”

          My chest tightened. “W-what? No, that won’t be-!”

          He walked straight past me. “Let’s get going. You want to find camp before nightfall.”  

          “I-I know how to survive in the desert.”

          “And I suppose you think you’d drink water from a cactus?”

          I gave him a look, not really sure how to respond.

          “Did you know most cacti do not produce safe drinking water? In fact, most cacti will produce water that would make you sick. The fishhook barrel cacti variety is the only one that can produce relatively safe drinking water, and even then, drinking it on an empty stomach can cause you to become sick. What would you do if you were in the middle of a sandstorm?”

          “Put my tent up?”

          He scoffed. “By the time you’d get your tent up, you’d either be dead, or the sandstorm would be over. You’d be lucky if the sandstorm didn’t take the tent down entirely and leave you stranded. You carry a mask—which I suppose you have?—that will cover your mouth and nose, and goggles for your eyes—which, again, I suppose you have? And petroleum jelly for your nose. If you see it coming, don’t go through it.

“Go around. Some sandstorms are fast, but some are slow, and you can easily outrun—even a civilian. If you can’t outrun it, stay together, find something to hide behind, or simply _stay put._ Trying to move during a sandstorm is foolish.” He gave me a look. “And wear long clothing to prevent the sand from ripping you apart.”

I glanced down at myself again, then crossed my arms. “It’s hot.”

“You’re right. It’s the desert. It’s hot.”

He was taunting me—I wasn’t going to take the bait. “Any other piece of advice you have for me?”

“Yea. Next time you have a desire to kill yourself,” his eyes flashed, “don’t.” He turned away and began to walk again.

I followed him this time, feeling silenced. The look in his eyes—the way he kept looking at me, it was hard to believe he didn’t suspect something.

          It was crazily easy to leave the village. Nobody questioned where the Kazekage was going—or why he had a civilian with him. But I had questions. I didn’t voice them, but I had questions. Like, why did he insist on coming with me? Why wouldn’t he just let me leave if he thought I was a danger? Why was he so interested in my story? What did he intend to do, keep an eye on me constantly?

          Silence. Neither of us spoke until we were well past the gate. He was the one who broke first. “Tell me,” he said conversationally, as though things weren’t tense and silent, “what made you decide to check out the oasis?”

          I shrugged, realized he couldn’t see it, and asked, “What made you decide to come with me?”

          “Call it curiosity.”

          I glared at the back of his head. “Curious, about what?”

          “How long it’d take for you to get a sunburn.”

          My glare deepened. “I don’t burn.”

          “We’ll see.” A few seconds of silence. “So, you never answered my question.”

          “What was it?” I asked sweetly.

          “Why did you want to come out here?”

          “Oh. I’ve never seen the desert before-”

          “Obviously.”

          “And I decided,” I went on, ignoring him, “that it would be nice. Where I’m from, I did a lot of caving, hiking, camping. And I don’t think my body would like it if I stopped. I’d probably wither away and die without fresh air and the breeze, and the freedom. It’s nothing like being home every day. It’s free, and fun, and thrilling—have you ever gone caving?”    

          “Not particularly, no. Unless missions count.”

          I shook my head. “No, they don’t. I meant, recreationally. For fun.”

          “Then definitely no. Never could see the fun in being on your knees, or crawling through mud.”

          “You sound like a lot of women I know who say that,” I joked softly.

          He glanced back at me, one brow raised.

          “Most women don’t enjoy being on their knees, either,” I explained.

          A look passed his face, and his lips twitched. Shaking his head, he turned away from me. “But you find it fun?”

          “Only when mud’s involved,” I teased.

          He laughed then. A soft, slightly breathless laugh. Raspy. Like he hadn’t done it in awhile, and hadn’t meant to let it out now. I had the feeling I’d startled him into laughing.

          And it made me smile. Though I didn’t know what had possessed me to make that joke—particularly a dirty joke like that—I was slightly glad I had. It had taken him off guard enough to laugh. “It’s better, out here,” I said seriously. “Away from the world. You don’t have to pretend, to wear a mask anymore.” I was looking around at the desert world around me, and when I looked back at him, he was looking at me. A serious, speculative look. “What?”

          He looked away. “You’re different,” he said softly. “Out here, I mean.”

          My chest swelled, and I had a moment of excitement. Not from his words. Just, it was nice to be out here. Even if I did have to go with him—apparently. “It’s freer out here,” I said. “I can do anything I want.” A moment passed, and I made a hasty decision. “Like this,” I said breathlessly, and ran forward, toward him.

          Then past him, and he paused. I could feel him watching me. Not thinking much about it, I flipped, landed on my feet, and spun as fast as I could, in a circle, over and over and over, staring up at the sky. Once dizzy, I stopped, then fell to the burning sands. Hot, like coal. It felt nice.

          He kept walking until he stood over me, and then he was looking down at me as I panted and laughed breathily. One pale brow raised, he watched me. “And what was that?”

          I sat up, stood, dropped my backpack, and grabbed his hand. “Take your backpack off,” I told him, suddenly wanting to do this. To share with him this deeper, inner me. To make him let go.

          He gave me a look. “We want to set up camp-”

          “Before it gets dark, yea, blah, blah. Take off your backpack. Or I will. C’mon.”

          “What are you going to do?” He was looking at me like I’d gained a third head. Or was about to _eat his_ head.

          I went around him, tugging at the backpack, and he slowly let it go. Then I grabbed his hand, and paused. “Listen. Do you hear it?”

          He tilted his head, eyes darting to the side. “Hear what?”

          “The music,” I told him softly. “Don’t you hear it?”

          He blinked. “Music, in the desert?”

          I sighed, exasperated. “No, music _of_ the desert. Close your eyes.” He sighed, but closed his eyes. “Now,” my voice turned soft, “listen, not just with your ears, but with this.” I touched the center of his chest lightly. “Hear the wind. How it sings. That soft, clear, sound.” A moment passed as I let that sink in. “Hear the sand as it shifts. The sound of it moving in the wind. Throaty, almost pulsing sound.” Another minute or two. “Listen to the sun, calling out softly. A gentle, loving sound, that you must be quiet to hear.” Another pause. “Lastly, listen to yourself. The musical beat of your heart. The way your hair rustles in the breeze. Your soft, slow breathing. Hear it, put it together. Just _listen._ ”

          A slight look crossed his face. A look I wouldn’t have seen had I not been watching for it.

          “Do you hear it?”

          A nod. “Yea, I do.”

          “Don’t open your eyes, not yet,” I said, when his eyes twitched. “No, just listen. Listen to the music, until you feel it.” I ran my hands lightly down his arms. “In your veins,” I pressed my hand against the center of his chest again, “in your heart,” I would’ve reached up to touch the center of his forehead, but I was too short, “in your mind’s eye. Feel it. Take the music, and pull it inside you. Pull it inside until it’s almost too much, until you think you’ll burst.”

          Another small look passed his face. “How?” he asked softly.

          “I’ll teach you, just trust me,” I told him. “I’ll teach you to feel the vibrations of the earth, the shifts in the wind, the laughter of the sun.” I took his hand, and sat down, pulling him to sit with me. “Keep your eyes closed. I know your abilities lie in sand, but for a moment, pretend they don’t. Pretend you’re a civilian. And touch the sand.” I pressed his hand into the sand, covering it with the grainy particles.

          His hand shifted under the sand.

          “Breathe it in. Like you breathe in power. Listen to the music the sand makes as it travels over your body. Listen to the music it makes when it rejoins its friends. Listen. And breathe it in. It’s oxygen for your soul, and yours has been deprived far too long, so take a deep breath. Take it into your body.”

          He breathed deeply a few times, eyes closed, and I could see it in his face when he began to get it. To understand. I could see him relax, and let it in.

          “Good, good. Now the wind. Touch the wind. Feel it. Be one with it.”     

          He held his other hand up, leaving one hand deep in the sand, and I watched him turn his hand this way and that, watched the understanding dawn across his face. Watched his breathing get deeper, slower.

          “Now take a deep breath, hold it.” He did, and I counted to ten. “Let it go.” He did. “Do you feel it?”

          “It’s like . . . energy.”

          “It’s natural energy. From the world around you.”

          His eyes opened. For a moment, I was struck by how beautiful they were, then I realized they seemed clearer, shining almost. “How do you know how to do that?” His voice was soft.

          I smiled, tilting my head. “I told you, I spent a lot of time outside.” I stood, grabbing his hands to pull him up as I did. “Now, remember that, keep breathing it. And follow along.” I grinned at him, pulling him with me as I twirled, and danced, around him. He stood there, watching me, eyes wide and confused. “Just let it out. The energy inside you. Feel it, breathe it, and let it go.”

          “Let it go?”

          I stopped, staring at him. “Let it go. Don’t hold it back. Play. Have fun. Dance. Prance around. Run. Just-!” The sand rose beneath me, and I screamed, dropping to my knees.

          He laughed as sand raised us higher, higher, and then stopped.

          “Have I mentioned I hate heights?”

          He laughed again, then grabbed my hands to pull me back up. “Ready?”

          “For what?”

          “You said _play,_ ” he said, giving a smile that was _almost_ a grin. The sand had brought our backpacks up. He pulled his on, and handed mine to me. “Put it on.”

          I did, gingerly. “What do you have planned?”

          “What was it you said? ‘Trust me’?” I paled, I know I did, because he chuckled, then pulled me tight to his side, one arm around me. “Ready?”

          “For what?” I pushed against him a bit, trying to get some distance.

          “Unless you want me to drop you, don’t do that,” he said—then jumped.

          I screamed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter Four: Kunai To The Face.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The majority of it is just a fun addition. Drinking, joking around. Fun times. A side of him we rarely get to see.
> 
> Two weeks passed as I worked my ass off at work, and tried to steadily ignore him. After the finding of the waterfall, we’d sat in there for hours, talking, before heading back, and all the way back, there was that feeling that he knew exactly who I was, and what had happened. A comment he’d said, at the waterfall, really seemed to drive that point home.
> 
> “I missed this.” Just that. Just those three words. But when I’d asked what he’d missed, he’d changed the subject.
> 
> And I knew what he meant.
> 
> And since then, everything we said to each other, even the silence, seemed to be this understanding that both of us knew the truth, but neither of us were willing to say it out loud.
> 
> And I was waiting for the bubble to pop. He would say it, I knew he would.
> 
> And I was afraid.

Chapter Four: Kunai To The Face. 

It was relief that had me dropping to my ass in the sand once everything had gone dark and we’d set up camp. I was breathless, and still a little panicked, but laughing a bit at the same time. It was nice to see his playful side come out to play.

            Even if his playful side was a little sadistic.

            He sat across from me, dropping his backpack next to him. “Gotta admit,” he was saying as he sat, “this is a lot more fun than I’d expected.”

            “Actually caving will be a lot more fun.” And with that thought, I realized something. He’d said that he’d never been caving before.

            I must’ve looked as thoughtful as I felt because his smile faded slightly, and he asked, “What?”

            I blinked, and stood. “Stand up.”

            He blinked, shook his head slightly, but stood up. “What’s wrong?”

            “Hold your arms out, like this.” I held my arms parallel to the ground.

            One brow raising, he obeyed. “Another music thing?”

            I shook my head. “Not at all. Checking how thick you are.”

            His eyes widened, brows raising. One blink, two, then he shook his head again. “Wait, what?”

            “Your waist—what’s your waist measurements?”

            “Why?”

            “Are you at least less than eighty-two?”

            “How fat do I look to you?”

            That response made me laugh a bit. “I don’t—it’s not—okay, let me start over. You’ve never been caving before. You have no idea what that means. But caving is actually a really dangerous thing.”

            “And,” he drew out the word, “being a Shinobi isn’t?”

            “I mean, cave divers, professional cave divers, we map out the caves most Shinobi don’t even know about. We map out caves before they go into them. To make sure they’re safe for you. I know, I’ve done it. It’s dangerous as hell, and we aren’t Shinobi with that kind of training, so we are more likely to die in caves.”

            “Fair point. Can I put my arms down?”

            “Yeah, go ahead. I’m just, it’s dangerous. I have a spare harness, but I don’t know if it’ll fit you. It’s adjustable, and I guess I could cut new holes in it if need be, and it is supposed to be one size, but. . . . It’ll have to do.”

            “Harness?”

            I sat back down. So did he. “Yea, you know, a safety harness. And I have extra safety gear, like carabiners, robe, and spikes, but I know I don’t have hiking boots—especially not that’ll fit you.” I glanced at his feet, and sighed. “Those’ll have to do. And I definitely don’t have gloves that would fit you. You really need gloves.”

            He turned without a word and opened a small pocket of his backpack, pulling out a pair of black, leather, climbing gloves. “I may not be a professional cave diver,” he drawled, “but I do know how to survive in the desert.” He put them back, rezipping the pocket. “And I’m pretty sure I won’t need safety gear.”

            “You do. It’s important that you wear the safety gear. Especially the harness. Without it, you won’t be able to climb right, and if you lose your footing, there won’t be a rope to catch you. Eh, I’ll show you all of it tomorrow when we get to the caves.” And then I had a thought. His backpack, like mine, was huge, but, unlike mine, there was only a sleeping bag hanging from it. No tent bag.

            He saw me studying his bag. “What?”

            “You, uh, you didn’t bring a tent, did you?”

            He met my eyes when I looked up at him, shaking his head. “No. I knew you’d be bringing one, and I knew it’d be safer for both of us to share a tent.” His eyes gleamed a little when he said that. “Never know, one of us might try to sneak away at night.”

            And I felt a chill run through me at that, followed by the words _He knows!_ I shook my head at that and turned toward my backpack. “Alright, I’ll just warn you, my tent is meant for one person, and I’m not likely to sleep. I’ll probably just read.” There was a smaller pack attached to my backpack that dangled off the side. It had extra things in it. “Thirsty?” I asked him, unzipping the smaller pack.

            “I have my own water. You should conserve yours.”

            That made me laugh. “Oh, honey, you act like I’m gonna offer you water. No, I got something better.” And I pulled out two beers, set them down, and reached back in. “Now, keep in mind, I only planned on one person being here, so I only have a six pack, and one shot glass.” I pulled out the thick glass shot glass and the small bottle of vodka. I waved the bottle of vodka at him. “Want a couple shots, or do you want to stick with beer?”

            He was giving me a strange look. Like I’d done something utterly strange. “Beer and vodka? They’re going to dehydrate you.”

            “Hence, this!” I set aside the vodka and pulled out a small bottle of strawberry-flavored mineral water. “I can use it for mixing, but I don’t intend on drinking much so I’ll also be able to drink it in the morning, and it’ll get rid of any dehydration. I also have wildberry flavored wine cooler,” pulled it out, “and chocolate syrup.” Pulled that out.

            He was looking more and more confused. “Chocolate syrup?”

            Last but not least, I pulled out the tiny bottle of red grenadine. “Shots? Or just beer?” I held out a beer to him. “It’s the good stuff. I splurged on this. I don’t do Busch. Yuengling is my favorite beer.”

            After a moment, he switched seats so he sat beside me, and took the beer, opening it. “Why not? Make it officially one of the weirder nights of my life.”

            I gave him a sideways glance. “If this is one of the weirder ones, you’ve led a very boring life.”

            He shrugged. “Perhaps.” He took a swig of the beer. “I prefer Yebisu.”

            I twisted my cap off. “Yebisu is a little outside my pay, so Yuengling it is.” I tipped my beer back, taking a big swallow. “It’s smooth.”

            He took another swig, then winced slightly. “If you say so.”

            I smacked him. “Do not insult my favorite beer. I will use the bottle in unpleasant ways.” I raised my beer to my lips, and started to drink—only for it to practically explode in fizz. I tried to swallow as much of the fizzy beer as I could before pulling it away.

            He was laughing at that, watching me cap my hand over the beer opening. “I think it liked that.”

            That made me look at him quizzically for a moment, blinking. He stared back at me, one brow raised, lips quirked, waiting for me to get there—and then I did, and my eyes widened. I looked away, face flushing. “I am not entirely sure what you’re insinuating, but—screw it, just drink!”

            He laughed again, turning away to take a deeper drink while I eyed my beer suspiciously.            

            Holding my beer between my legs, I grabbed the vodka, the shot glass, the grenadine, and the strawberry-flavored water. “I’m pretty good at mixing drinks, actually. Wanna go first?”

            “How much alcohol is in that?”

            “Just 30%. I like vodka because it doesn’t affect me much. Just enough to sometimes get a decent buzz, but not enough to get drunk. I’d never want to be drunk.”

            “Then maybe you’re drinking with the wrong people.”

            “Maybe,” I said, twisting the vodka cap off. “So? You wanna go first?”

            “Sure.”

            “Cool. Hold this.” I handed him the shot glass, and poured the vodka until it was half full, then grabbed the mineral water, filled it another fourth of the way up, and grabbed the grenadine to finish it off. “It’s kinda cheap vodka, keep that in mind.”

            Without answering, he took the shot. Not a wince passed his face. He held the glass out, tilting his head slightly. “That was pretty good. A little fruity, but good.”

            “What, you want yours sour?”

            “I wouldn’t mind sour.”

            “Well, sorry, I like strawberry.”

            He glanced at the vodka, reading the title. It was strawberry-flavored, too. “I can tell.”

            “Blah.”

            “Fill it. It’s your turn.”

            I rose one brow at him. “Well, Kazekage-Sama, I’d almost think you were trying to get me drunk.”

            “Of course. You made it easier by bringing alcohol.”

            I couldn’t help it, I laughed at that. _I like this, hanging with him,_ I realized. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him in the years I didn’t know him, but, really, I hadn’t known him that well when I—when we got—

            Well, yea.

            I filled the glass ¾’s of the way with vodka, then added the rest.

            “Are you deliberately filling my shot less, or what?

            “I don’t know how strong you like your shots.”

            “As strong as you can make them.” He held the shot out to me.

            I took it, downing it quickly, then smiled as I handed the empty glass back. “In that case, care to do a couple straight?”

            “Now who’s trying to get who drunk?”

            I laughed again. “If you can’t handle it-!”

            “Oh, I can handle it.”

            I grabbed the vodka, meeting his eyes. “You sure? It’s pretty powerful stuff.”

            “Ooh, thirty percent. I should run.”

            And again, I laughed, but filled his glass to the very lip of the shot glass. “Don’t spill.”

            In one easy movement, he’d taken the shot. Not spilling a drop. Wordlessly, he held the glass out for me to fill again.

            I did, then took the shot from him. The strawberry vodka really didn’t need a chaser, or a mixer. It was good with or without. Then again, maybe I was biased. I liked anything with strawberries. “Not bad vodka, huh?”

            “I can think of better.”

            I smacked his arm again. “Just compliment the vodka already.”

            “I don’t lie.”

            “Don’t you dare insult my favorite vodka!” But I was laughing.

            “I’ll have to bring you the good stuff sometime.”

            “I don’t do sour. Just saying.”

            “Oh? Couldn’t tell.” He gestured to the shot I’d already filled for him. “Everything is strawberry, and sweet.”

            “But not _too_ sweet. Can’t stand sugary sweet. Strawberries are just the perfect blend of sweet and not sweet.”

            He shook his head, taking the shot, then held the glass out for me to refill. “How would you have filled this without me here?”

            I grinned. “You really want to know?”

            “Sure.”

            I took the glass from him, and set it down on my chest, wiggling it so it was snugly held between my breasts. “Not that hard. You make it easier, though. It can get messy taking it out of there.”

            He shook his head, reaching up to run his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I asked.”

            I filled the glass, took it out, only spilling a little, and took the shot quickly. “More shots, or you wanna drink your beer?”

            He glanced at the Yuengling held by sand beside him. “I’m not sure. I think I prefer the shots.”

            “That better not be a shot at my beer.”

            He made a slight face and looked away.

            “Oh, if I didn’t have a beer between my legs, I would-!”

            He took the beer from me, set it on the sand, where it was promptly gripped safely.

            I stared at that. “Hm. Useful. You’re a walking cup holder.”

            The sand dropped my beer just enough to spill some at that before picking it back up.

            “Alright,” I capped the vodka, set the shot glass aside. “That’s it.” I leapt on him then, pushing him back into the sand. There was little resistance, and when he was flat in the sand, he had his arms crossed comfortably behind his head as he smiled serenely up at me. My hands were on his shoulders, and I was straddling his waist, when I realized I’d moved a bit faster than civilian fast. Not bothering to worry about that now, I pressed down on his shoulders. “Nobody insults my beer—apologize!” It would’ve sounded a lot more threatening if I could’ve stopped laughing—or at least not grinned.

            He shook his head, looking for all the world as though he were comfortably stargazing. Not being pinned by a fierce ex-Shinobi. Though, he didn’t know that I was—

            Maybe the alcohol was affecting me more than I’d thought after all?

            “Apologize, or I won’t let you up!”

            “Oh, really now?” I pushed against his shoulders harder when I felt him shift. “Do you really think you can keep me down?”

            “As long as you don’t use your sand to help you, sure.”

            He laughed. “How weak do you think I am?”

            “I never said you were—hey-!” He was sitting up, even as I pushed against him—and I had to remind myself to be civilian-strong only.

            Even so, he sat up as though there was nothing keep him down, and before I could react, he flipped, grabbed my wrists, and had me pinned. “And now?”

            “You—let me up! Not fair, I’m a civilian.”

            “Not what you were saying five seconds ago.”

            “When I get out of this, you are in so much trouble!”

            “’When’? Don’t you mean ‘if’?”

            “I’ll get out eventually.”

            “No, I’ll _let_ you out eventually. You’d never get out of this, even if you used all your strength.”

            The way he said that. . . . “Fine. I’m going to push as hard as I can, then.” That was a lie. Civilian-strength activated! I’d use ten percent, even that was a lot for a civilian. I pushed, but nothing happened. He looked bored. Like he didn’t know I was pushing.

            _Okay, I know that not even I would consider this strong, but I wouldn’t consider this_ that _weak, either!_

            I wanted to push harder, but I knew-

            “Are you actually that weak, or are you going easy on me?”

            “You wish!” Okay. So I pushed a little harder. He wouldn’t know what civilian-strength was anyway. Right? But still, he looked bored.

            “I’ll let you up when you’re ready to admit I’m stronger than you.”

            “In your dreams!” I took a deep breath, centered myself, took a short, five second break, and pushed, even arching my back a bit.

            Still. Bored.

            “I’ll make it easier.” He moved both wrists closer together, then transferred one wrist to his other hand so he was holding both wrists with one hand. “Go ahead.”

            Okay, thirty percent. That’s almost half of my strength, against one of his hands. Okay. I pushed.

            He reached up to rub his mouth with his free hand, seemingly not paying any attention to my pushing. “Done? Did you give up?”

            I fell back against the sand, a little breathy. “I was pushing.”

            “Not very hard.”

            I took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. You’re . . . stronger.”

            “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

            “I said you’re stronger.”

            “Stronger than . . . ?”

            I glared at him. “Me.”

            “Put it all together.”

            I took a deep breath. “You’re stronger than I am.”

            He rolled then, taking me with him, so that he was on his back and I was over him again, straddling his waist again, but trapped against his chest this time. Then he sat up. “I’ll take another shot, if you’re ready.”

            “My beer is good, and so is my vodka.”

            “I thought we’d settled this?”

            “It’s never settled,” I said, taking my seat beside him. I poured him another straight shot, handing it to him. “Okay, gotta admit, it would’ve been a lot less fun without you here.”

            “And you’d have killed yourself by now,” he said without missing a beat. “That sandstorm that hit earlier would’ve finished you off quickly.”

            He’d used his sand to block both of us as we huddled in safety. “That was unexpected,” I allowed, “but I’m harder to kill than that.”

            “Glad to hear that.”

            I took the next shot, then said, “Fuck it,” and grabbed the bottle of vodka. “We’re already drinking after one another, so why not?” I took a long swig from the bottle, then handed it to him.

            He laughed slightly, but took it. “Got tired of the little shots, too?” He took a drink. “Smoother than the beer, I’ll admit.”

            I smacked his arm. For the third time that night. “Oh, blah. My beer is awesome. Actually, I make ale. And it’s really good when it’s done. It takes a couple months at least to ferment, but it’s really good.”

            “What do you make it out of?”

            “Ginger root, and different ingredients from there. It started as an accident a couple years back. I made ginger tea, my favorite tea. Homemade. And I forgot to drink it, and when I remembered it, it had turned into ale. But,” I shrugged, “it was good.”

            “I’d be willing to try that sometime.”

            I set the vodka bottle between us after taking one more deep drink, and lay back in the still warm sand to stare up at the stars. “I love stargazing. It used to be a favorite hobby of mine.”

            He took a deep drink, then joined me on the sand. After a moment, he pointed upward. “See that? That’s Cygnus.” He traced out a shape in the sky, and I followed his finger. “And that,” he moved to another area of the sky, “that’s the Corona Borealis. I think that one’s my favorite.”

            I tilted my head slightly to the side. “That one? Looks kinda like a smile?”

            A nod. “Yea. That’s the one.”

            “Why?”

            “I don’t know. Just always liked that one.”

            “How do you know the constellations? Do they teach that to Suna Shinobi?”

            “No. I taught myself. I’ve always loved the stars.”

            “Are there any others?”

            He glanced at me, then scooted closer. “There are many, see that one?” He pointed up. “That’s Ophiuchus.”

            “That’s a mouthful,” I said. “Ophiuchus.”

            He laughed. “Yea, I guess so.”

            I reached out for my beer, drinking it quietly as he pointed out another constellation. “I love stargazing,” I told him, “but my life is often hectic, and I usually don’t have time to watch them as much as I used to.”

            “I know the feeling,” he said, sighing.

            “At least you know the constellations. All I know is the big dipper.”

            “At least you know that much.” He grabbed for the vodka, taking a drink. “Once you get used to it, it’s not that bad.”

            “You should try the beer then.”

            He grabbed his beer, gave me a look, sat up, and started to drink it. He downed the bottle, then threw it off to the side. “Better?” he asked, shooting me a slight grin.

            Okay. “It’s on.” I sat up, grabbed my beer, and started to drink—only for it to once again explode in fizz. I coughed, not expecting it, and it got all over my chin, dripping onto my chest, but I still continued to drink, even as he laughed. Emptied, I threw it to the side. “Not easy when it explodes, but there!”

            “I’m pleasantly surprised that you’re not drunk yet.”

            “Hah. Not even close.” I started to lay back again when he grabbed vodka, holding it out for me. “Why, sir, I really do think you’re trying to get me drunk.”

            “The easier to learn your secrets.”

            Shaking my head, I laughed at that. “I’m an open book.”

            “Written in invisible ink.”

            I laughed harder, taking the vodka. “Agreed,” I admitted. “And that was a good line.”

            He laughed. “Thank you.”

            I took a long drink, then looked at the almost empty bottle before shaking it and holding it out to him. “You can finish the rest of it off.”

            “Not a big bottle,” he said, taking it from me to tilt it back. One or two swallows was all it took for the bottle to be empty.

            “Yea, but I was planning on drinking it alone.” I grinned then. “I had an unexpected visitor join me.” I grabbed two more beers from the small pack, holding one out for him. “And, plus, a big bottle would _not_ have fit in that bag. It was hard as it was getting what was in there in there.”

            He twisted his cap off. “Had I known alcohol was allowable, I’d have brought some. I don’t usually drink vodka. I prefer sake.”

            I made a face. “Sake gets me drunk.”

            He laughed, and I realized what I’d said. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

            “Not fair! Don’t you dare remember that!”

            “Too late.”

            “Okay, fine. You found my weakness. What’s yours? What gets you drunk?”

            He gave me a long, appraising look. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

            “Oh. Oh, no. You are not getting away with that. I told you what gets me drunk—you should at least give me some type of alcohol that gets you drunk.”

            “You couldn’t afford it,” he said, laughing.

            “Oh, that is a cheap blow!”

            “You’d have the best luck with sake, but bourbon is pretty good, too.”

            “How about whiskey? I like whiskey.”

            He glanced at me. “Most girls don’t.”

            “I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.”

            He laughed. “Fine. Most _women_ don’t.”

            “I do.” I’d been steadily sipping on my beer, and was nearly empty at this point. “Two more beers left.”

            He glanced at his almost-empty beer. “It gets better the more you drink it.”

            “Damn right.” I finished off my beer, and reached for the pack to grab the last two, handing him one as he finished his beer off. I twisted my cap off, took a swig, then started to put all the empty bottles back into my pack. “Don’t want to liter. Bad.”

            “Good. I was a little worried you’d try to leave this here.”

            “Oh, no way. I am a naturalist, man. Leave nature as you come to it.”

            He reached over to grab his empties, depositing them in my pack. “Glad to hear it.”

            “So, tomorrow, those caves. See them?” They were within walking distance now. “I’m going to teach you to cave.”

 

Halfway down the cave wall, I heard him mutter something. “What was that?”

            He glanced down. “It’s a fifty foot drop at most—I could just jump down.”

            I grinned. “Where’s the fun in that? Climbing is good therapy.”

            He grunted.

            I climbed a little faster. It didn’t take me long at all to reach the ground, and I just jumped the last five feet.

            A thump behind me told me he’d jumped, too.

            I turned toward him, noticing that he’d unbuckled his safety harness. “That needs to stay buckled,” I said, stepping toward him.

            “It’s a bit tight.”

            I knelt in front of him, inspecting the buckle, and pulled it out a bit to stretch it. “It just needs a little stretching, and it’ll be fine, but don’t unbuckle it. It won’t work if it’s not buckled.”

            “Yea. . . . Because I’m in real danger of falling.” As if to prove a point, sand rose around him.           

            “It’s not as easy as you think it is. Trust me.” I stood, turned, and started to walk away from him. “Do you know how to use carabiners; in case we do have to use them?”

            “I don’t see why we’d need to.”

            “Because we’re traveling as civilians do. Not Shinobi. So no jumping, flying, climbing up walls-!”

            “Flying? And didn’t we just climb _down_ a wall?”

            “I meant, no climbing walls using Chakra. And, yes. Your pedestal of sand flying bullshit. None of that. We’re doing this civilian style.”

            “I guess the one good thing about this,” I felt him tug the robe connecting our safety harnesses together, “the only way you’re getting away from me this time is to cut this rope, and I’ll know about it before you can finish it.”

            I glanced back at him in the darkness. “Right. So think along the pros of this equipment. What’s wrong with an extra measure of safety?”

            He sighed. “Fine.”

            “Never thought I’d hear you whining about something.”

            “I’m not whining,” he defended.

            “Are too.”

            “What are we, twelve?”

            “Bickering back and forth. Yea, twelve, or married.” That joke made me tense a bit, it had just slipped out.

            But he laughed, seemingly not noticing me tense. “Okay, maybe not _that_ bad.”

            “Look. See that?” I ran ahead of him, the rope pulling him with me. It was a tiny little opening in the wall, about knee high. “Can you fit through there?”

            “If I lost about six inches of height, and a couple dozen pounds of muscle, maybe.”

            I glanced up at him, then down at the little tunnel, sighing. “Yea, I guess you are a bit too broad to fit through there.” I knelt, shining my headlamp’s light into it, looking. “It’s pretty long. Looks like something’s in there.”

            The tunnel seemed to crumble a bit, then a bit more, and I realized part of the walls and ceiling were turning to sand.

            I looked up at him. “Hey, that’s not fair—or safe. If you take too much off, it could collapse.”

            “That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

            “And I said we’re traveling as civilians.”

            “Forgot you think you’re in charge here,” he drawled drily.

            “Hey, out here, there’s no ranks. Just experience.” I looked back toward the tunnel. “I think that’s good enough.”

            “Still would be a tight fit.”

            “Aw, isn’t that every guy’s dream?” With that, I slipped into the tunnel, smiling when I heard him laugh. It was wide enough and tall enough for me to get through easily, but when I glanced back, he had to be damn near on his belly with his shoulders pulled in as close together as he could get.

            He got through, though, and he saw whatever there was to see before I did. His eyes widened, and he took a deep breath. “Whoa.”

            I whirled, and also took a deep breath. The tiny little tunnel had led into a huge cavern that didn’t have any other openings that I could see, but at the very far wall, falling from the ceiling, was a waterfall. The pond, or lake, whatever it was, covered most of the cavern’s floor. “That explains the sparkling I saw,” I said breathlessly.

            “I never knew this was here.”

            “I doubt many people do. That tunnel is tiny.” I walked forward, toward the water. It was clear, sparkling with life, the way only underground water did. “We must be further underground than I thought.”

           

 

Two weeks passed as I worked my ass off at work, and tried to steadily ignore him. After the finding of the waterfall, we’d sat in there for hours, talking, before heading back, and all the way back, there was that feeling that he knew exactly who I was, and what had happened. A comment he’d said, at the waterfall, really seemed to drive that point home.

            “I missed this.” Just that. Just those three words. But when I’d asked what he’d missed, he’d changed the subject.

            And I knew what he meant.

            And since then, everything we said to each other, even the silence, seemed to be this understanding that both of us knew the truth, but neither of us were willing to say it out loud.

            And I was waiting for the bubble to pop. He would say it, I knew he would.

            And I was afraid.

 

 

He’d noticed that she was avoiding him. No matter how he tried to get her attention, she’d tried to appear busier than she was, tried to avoid him. He knew why. He’d let it slip. She knew he knew, and he knew that.

            Neither of them were willing to admit that, at least not yet. He wanted her to admit it. To tell him the truth. To tell him why she’d done what she’d done. Why she’d pretended what she had. What had driven her to come to Suna.

            He was willing to wait until she told him.

            Pushing the door to her workplace open, he stepped inside. Aimee immediately saw him and smiled. “She’s not here,” she said instantly. Had he become that obvious? “Called in sick. Sounded like she had a horrible cold.”

            “When was this?”

            “Oh, yesterday. Anything else we can do for you?”

            He hesitated, then, “Chicken soup.” It wasn’t that he really believed she was sick. And it wasn’t that he cared if she was, he told himself hastily. He wanted to show up at her place armed with medicine, and chicken soup, to prove that she wasn’t sick.

            So it was with that mindset that he went shopping. He’d told them to take their time making the soup, to make it well, and he’d pick it up on his way back toward her place. Cold medicine, tissues, what else went with a cold? He couldn’t think of anything else.

            _Sleep,_ he realized. When someone’s sick, sleeping often helped their body recuperate better.

            So he made sure to choose night-time cold medicine. “To help her sleep.”

            And when he got there and she was perfectly healthy, he would demand to know why she was avoiding him.

            It was with that mindset that he arrived at her door twenty minutes later. He knocked. Waited. Then knocked again.

            And the door opened. Pale golden hair messy, red nose, eyes a little water—she looked pale. And her eyes widened when she saw him. She gasped, darted behind the door, and started to shove the door shut.

            He caught it with his foot. “Heard you were sick.”

            “Yea, now you know. Go away. I look like shit.”

            “Like I really care. Let me in.”

            “Uh-uh. I haven’t even brushed my hair in two days!”

              “I have medicine.”

            Silence.

            “And chicken soup.”

            Silence, again, then shuffling. She peered around the edge of the door. “What kind?”

            “From the restaurant you work at. I specified that you just wanted chicken broth.”

            She peered at him a moment more, and he bit the inner lining of his cheek to keep from smiling. Then, with a sigh, she opened the door. “Fuck it. You can put it over there, on the table.”

            He glanced around the small kitchen. Clean, organized, a couple dirty dishes in the sink. Small. White. “Nice.” He walked to the small wooden table, setting the bags on it. “I got two servings of soup. Enough for both of us. Come eat. It’ll help you feel better.” He was taking the chicken soup out as he talked, placing each bowl at a chair. “And here’s the cold medicine I got.” He turned, holding the medicine out for her, only to see her fiddling with her wallet.

            She had her hand in her wallet, but hesitated when she saw the medicine. “I can’t afford-”

            “Did I ask you to pay for it?”

            “Gaara, I can’t-!”

            “Either take it, or I’ll dump it in your soup.”

            She took it, slowly, glancing up at him uncertainly as she did. “Thank you,” she said softly.

            “You’re welcome. Now, take your medication, and come eat with me. I got beer, too.”

            Her eyes brightened at that. “Yuengling?”

            “You’re never getting me to drink that again, so get that out of your mind.”

            She glared at him.

            He laughed. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just take the meds, and sit.”

            She did, setting the medicine on the counter before she sat down. Taking the plastic spoon into her hand, she took a bite of the soup as he pulled out the Yebisu six-pack. Then she stood straight back up. “Don’t eat that soup—well, go ahead, take a bite, so I can show you how people really cook.”

            He glanced up at her as she moved to a cabinet, and set the beers aside as he reached for his own plastic spoon to take a bite. It was good. He didn’t know what was wrong with it—and then he looked at her to see her climbing on her counter to get to the cabinet. He strode to her, getting to her just as she lost her balance. He put his arm around her waist, noticing her jump, and gasp. “What are you trying to get?”

            “I can get it. My equilibrium is just off because of the cold.”

            “Just tell me what to grab.”

            She sighed, then settled down onto the counter, telling him which spices to grab from the top shelf.

            “Why are they up there if you can’t reach them?” he asked, grabbing the last one. Something called “marjoram.”

            “I can reach them,” she defended. “I just . . . climb. Okay, now back up so I can get down.”

            He closed the cabinet, only for the door to open back up, and closed it again, holding it closed while he backed up just enough for her to get down.

            She glanced up at him. “That’s not a lot of room.”

            “I’m holding the cabinet shut so you don’t hit your head on it.”

            She glanced back at the cabinet. “Right. Good idea. Okay.”

            “You should probably get that fixed.”

            “Probably, but who can afford that?” She jumped down, between him and the counter, then paused a moment, staring up at him, eyes a little wide. “You’re taller than I thought you were.”

            “And you’re shorter,” he commented. It was true. She barely came up to his chest.

            She seemed to resist smacking him as she turned around, grabbed all the spices, and ducked under his arm to carry them to the table.

            He stood in place a moment longer, toying with the cabinet door. It wouldn’t be too hard to fix. It just needed realigned, really. When he turned back, she’d moved onto her own bowl. He watched her add spice after spice.

            Pink Himalayan salt, that marjoram stuff, basil, and a few others, and she stirred it, then took the spoon to her lips. A sip of that, and she moaned, eyes closing. “That’s so much—!” A look crossed her face. Her nose twitched. She whirled and ran from the room.

            He followed her to her bathroom, hearing her sneeze. The door was closed. He edged it open.

            She glanced at him, sneezing again into the tissue in her hands before throwing it into the toilet. “I came in here to avoid you seeing me sneeze.”

            “Yea, because I don’t know what sneezing or blowing your nose looks like.” He took a couple steps into the bathroom, letting the door close behind him. “I brought tissues for that reason. They’re supposed to be good. They have lotion in them.”

             She flushed the toilet, turned away to walk to the sink. It was a small bathroom. The toilet was next to the door, the sink at the far wall, and the bathtub against the wall next to the toilet. She glanced up at the mirror while washing her hands, glancing back at him. “I hate sneezing, and colds, and being sick.”

            “I honestly didn’t believe that you had a cold.”

            “I know. Who catches a cold in the middle of the desert?”

            “It’s actually more common than you’d think.” He moved closer to her. “You just need to rest.”

            She turned the water off, turning, wiping her eyes. “I think I hate the watery eyes almost as much as the sneezing. Though I also hate the fact that I look like literal hell.”

            He reached out to her, lifting her chin with his index finger so she looked up at him. Her eyes were wide. Her face was flushed. Her nose was red. Her lips were red and wet from the water she’d splashed on her face. “You look cute. Not like hell.”

            Her face flushed in a different way, and she looked away. “I feel like hell.”

            “That’s why I’m here.”

            “Why, to remind me hell could be worse?” She looked up at him, quirking one brow challengingly, a slight curve to her lips.

            He shook his head. “No, to take care of you.”

            She sniffled then, and he smiled. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’m an adult.”

            “Every now and then, everyone needs a little help.”

            “When was the last time you had someone take care of you?”

            “My sister still nags me to eat at least ten times a day. If I were sick, she’d probably chain me to my bed.”

            She laughed at that. “You wouldn’t get any work done at all, then. The whole village would fall apart.”

            “That’s why I try very hard not to get sick.”

            “You take your job too seriously sometimes—it’ll end up being the death of you.”

            “Maybe, but at least I make sure I won’t be the death of my people.”

            She smiled then, a real smile. A smile he hadn’t seen in a long time. “You’re a good king.” Her smile widened, turned playful, teasing. “You deserve a cookie.”

            That startled a laugh from him. “I miss this when you’re avoiding me.”

            Her eyes widened. “I-I wasn’t-!”

            “Yeah, you were, and we both know why.”

            She tensed, shoulders jerking slightly, and a small breath fell from her. All of this was barely noticeable. If he hadn’t been watching for it, he wouldn’t have seen it.

            “Come on, let’s go eat. You need to eat something.” He took her by her arm, led her from the bathroom and to the kitchen. Both of them sat at their places. He took a bite of the soup, and his eyes widened. “Okay, that’s a little better than it was.”

            “It’d be a _lot_ better if it had been done right from the beginning. It needs to sit like this, the broth, I mean. For at least an hour, letting it really set in. And then you add the noodles, and cook it like that, and mmmmm. It’s amazing.”

            He studied her. “Maybe you should be the chef, then.”

            Her cheeks reddened—maybe. It was hard to tell, her cheeks were red from the cold. “I’d like to, actually. I love cooking. It’s a great career. But it’s hard to break into.”

            “With the right connections, it’d be easier.”

            “Maybe.” They finished eating mostly in silence, and after she’d drank her broth, she started to yawn. Then her eyes widened, and he saw something akin to panic in them. “That medicine, is-is it non-drowsy?”

            He shook his head. “No. It’s got sleeping medicine in it, to help you sleep.”

            She stood up abruptly at that, turned away, wrapping her arms around her torso. “I-I don’t really sleep that often.”

            He stood, walked over to her. The sense of panic thickened when he got closer. He knew that feeling. “Why? Why are you afraid to sleep?” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt.

            “I-I just don’t sleep well.”

            “Sleep is an important step to getting over illness.”

            “Says the _insomniac._ ”

            “That’s right, I am, and was worse, which is why I would know.” Something didn’t sit right, though. “You’re afraid to sleep, why?”

            She was rubbing her arms. “I just. . . . Bad dreams, that’s the easiest way to explain it.” She started to sway.

            He caught her, lifting her bridal-style into his arms. Her eyes were closing.

            “That stuff’s powerful,” she mumbled. “I don’t—no sleep. . . .”

            “I’ll stay with you. Okay?”

            A slight nod. “Okay.”

            He carried her through the apartment toward the room he assumed had to be the bedroom. It was. Small, blue. A full bed by the wall, next to the door. Nothing else in it except a chest of clothes. He walked around the bed and set her on the side furthest from the door.

            She tensed, trying to sit up. “I-I sleep by the door.” She sounded almost fully awake. Maybe it was the panic in her eyes, and voice.

            He pushed her back down, noticing how she struggled with keeping her eyes open, tucking the blanket in around her. “Not today. I’ll sit by the door.”

            “But-!”

            “I’ll keep you safe, okay? Trust me.” He wasn’t sure how he knew that it was fear that made her want the side by the door, but he knew.

            She nodded. “Okay, but I need my pillow.” She reached out, turning her head, to grab a black, old-looking, kinda torn pillow with arms. A backrest pillow. It was old, and didn’t seem in the greatest shape, and didn’t match the decoration—and it wasn’t something he’d expected. She lay back on the pillow, cuddling the arm to her chest, back to him.

            By the time he walked around the bed to sit on the other side, she was out. It took him fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, to remember the cabinet door. And he stood, got off the bed, and left the small apartment, locking the door on his way out, and taking the keys that she kept on a hook next to the door. He’d checked first to make sure they were the right keys.

            Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, later, he was back with a toolbox. He was unlocking the door when an older, heavyset woman came around the corner. “Good, you’re already here. You were notified fast.”

            “Notified?” He stared at the older woman.

            “It’s about time you were notified. I’ve been calling for weeks. I think that girl in there’s got an abusive husband. Every couple weeks, I can hear him beating her in there. I hear her screaming, and begging him to stop. I don’t know why you took so long to hear about this. I’ve been calling for weeks.”

            He stared at her a little harder, trying to understand exactly what she was saying. “Have you ever seen a man leave, or enter, this apartment?”

            She shook her head. “I’m the landlady, and I rented her the apartment with no knowledge of a significant other. She said there was nobody else, but I could tell. Woman’s intuition, you see. She’s running from someone. I think he found her.”

            And the he heard the scream. Loud, ending with “Please!”

            And he jerked the door open, thanking everything under the sun that he’d already unlocked it. Kicking it closed behind him, he bolted to the bedroom, shouldered the door open. He had half a second to take in the empty room, Shai twisting and kicking at the blankets he’d meticulously wrapped her in, before she was up, something glinting in her hand. Her eyes were closed as she lunged at him.

            He reacted instantly, grabbing her wrist, flipping her over, and pinning her to the bed, face-up, jumping onto the bed to pin her weight with his, straddling her waist. He’d thrown the kunai she’d had in her hand without realizing it, and had her wrists pinned. “Shai! Shaiyar, open your eyes. It’s just me. Look at me. Hey!”

            She came to at the third shake, eyes fluttering weakly before she focused on his eyes. Her eyes were unfocused slightly, struggling, and he could see then how tired she was, and he wondered when the last time she’d slept was. “G-Gaara?”

            “Right. It’s me. It’s okay.”

            “You left,” she said weakly, eyes fluttering.

            “I’m here now. It’s okay.” It was at that moment he tried to remember exactly when and where he’d dropped the toolbox he’d gone to get. “I just went to get something. I’m back now.”

            “You’re gonna leave again?”

            He shook his head. “No, I’m going to stay.”

            Her eyes closed, not opening or fluttering again. “Good.”

            “Where did you get that kunai?” He hadn’t noticed it before.

            “They’re in my pillow. . . .”

            “’ _They’_ are in your pillow? How many?”

            Her words slurred. He wasn’t sure what she’d said.

            He grabbed the pillow, and her eyes opened, wide.

            She grabbed for it, and he twisted it, and himself, out of her grasp. “What-what are you doing?”

            “I’m not taking the chance of waking up with you stabbing me,” he replied, feeling the pillow for the second kunai. Finding it, he threw it to the floor.

            She tried to catch it. “I-I need that!”

            “No, you don’t. I’m here. I’m going to protect you, remember?”

            She looked up at him at that, eyes unfocused again. “I need them.”

            “Why do you need them?”

            “What if he comes here?”

            “How awake are you?”

            “If he comes here-!”

            “If _anyone_ gets through that door, they’ll have to deal with me, and I’m _not_ a happy person to wake up.”

            Her eyes fluttered, closed. “You’re gonna leave.”

            “I’m not going anywhere.”

            “Eventually.”

            “I’m staying right here.”

            “Promise?”

            “I promise.”

            She shifted, and he moved off her, letting her roll onto her side.

            “Scoot, I get the door.”

            She moved, cuddling against the pillow.

            And he stretched out beside her. A minute or two passed, and he worried that she hadn’t told him exactly how many kunais were in that pillow. He’d already been rather unexpectedly greeted with a kunai to the face tonight—he didn’t want it to happen again. He pulled her closer, gently relocating her to his own arm, against his chest, where she instantly cuddled, and grabbed the pillow. Holding the pillow above his head, he searched the thing slowly, finding two more kunais buried within its fluff, then, still not trusting it to be weapon-free, he set it back on the bed.

            And hesitated. It felt . . . nice, to have her cuddled against him like that. She was facing him, on her side. Head on his arm, almost his shoulder, and as he hesitated, she wrapped an arm around his waist, and that was the end of it. He pulled the blankets over them, wrapped both arms around her, and closed his eyes. 


	8. Chapter Five: Falling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small fluff chapter. 
> 
> “But don’t, for a second, think that means I’m safe, or you’re safe, or Suna’s safe. If my dad found out I was here, he would come here, afraid of you or not, and the moment he met you, he wouldn’t be afraid of you anymore, and he’d demand you turn me over, and I’m telling you now, I’m not going to him. I will cause a war between you and my dad, because the moment I find out he’s here, I’ll be gone. Nothing will keep me here. I’ve killed to get free of him before, and I will do it again. Make no mistakes, while I like Suna, and I like the people in it, and I might even like you, it won’t be the first time I’ve left a place I loved to get away from him. And it won’t be the first time I’ve caused a war to get away from him.

Chapter Five: Falling. 

 

Whatever I was lying on was moving. And the only thing that kept me from jumping up instantly was the steady, rhythmic beat under my ear that just kept luring me back to sleep. No matter how I fought it, it kept me in a very comfortable, drowsy state.

            Until I realized that something was touching my wrist.

            I tried not to tense while I focused on that feeling. Something—someone—was trailing a finger around the scar wrapped around my wrist. There was an arm around me, and the hand of that arm was holding my wrist while another hand explored the scars on my hand and wrist lightly. Almost as though they were afraid of hurting me—or waking me.

            I must’ve tensed, because I heard, “You’re awake.”

            Chills ran down my spine when I realized who it was. “G-Gaara?”

            “How did you get this scar?” he asked softly, trailing his finger down the thin, pale, inch-long scar in the center of my palm. I had the same one on both hands.

            “Knife through the hands,” I answered, yawning. Then realizing what I’d said, I tensed, waiting for him to call me out.

            He turned my hand over, studying the scar on the back of my hand that matched the other one. Then turned my hand back over to study my palm, touching a darker, thicker, ragged scar. “And this one?”

            “I did it to myself. Stupidity, really.”

            “And this one?” He touched the scar that ran down the side of my hand, about two inches long, and thick, ragged, like the other one.

            “Same thing.” My own power had caused those.

            “I see,” he said softly. Then, after a moment, he touched the scar at my wrist, the one that wrapped all the way around. “And this one?” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and I could hear all the unspoken words in it.

            I jerked my hand away, sitting up. He sat up, too, leaning against the wall while I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled them to my chest.

            “You’re not wearing your gloves.”

            I glanced at him, laying my head on my knees, sniffling. “And?”

            “I’m not used to it.”

            “Yea, well, I’m sick, and wasn’t expecting company.” I sniffled again.

            “You used to lose control when you didn’t wear them.”

            I tensed. “That was a long time ago,” I breathed shakily.

            “I won’t deny that.”

            “So . . . we’re doing this now?”

            “Doing what?”

            I closed my eyes tightly. “Remember, you’re the one who won’t let me leave.”

            “I also won’t deny that.”

            “Why?”

            “Call it curiosity.”

            I blew a breath. “Fine. I’ll throw you a bone. What you do with it is up to you.” I tensed, tightening my arms around my knees. “My dad is still looking for me, and I heard a rumor about him being afraid of you—well, the current Kazekage, which happens to be you. And what I told you about wanting to build a normal life in Suna was mostly true—I don’t want kids. Gods, what if they inherit my Kekkei Genkai? No. But I want a normal, quiet, safe life, and I knew coming here would be the best chance I have.

            “But don’t, for a second, think that means I’m safe, or you’re safe, or Suna’s safe. If my dad found out I was here, he would come here, afraid of you or not, and the moment he met you, he wouldn’t be afraid of you anymore, and he’d demand you turn me over, and I’m telling you now, I’m not going to him. I will cause a war between you and my dad, because the moment I find out he’s here, I’ll be gone. Nothing will keep me here. I’ve killed to get free of him before, and I _will_ do it again. Make no mistakes, while I like Suna, and I like the people in it, and I might even like you, it won’t be the first time I’ve left a place I loved to get away from him. And it won’t be the first time I’ve caused a war to get away from him.

            “And he will war with you. Especially if he knows you know who I am and never told him, and especially if you outright refuse to hand me over. He will start a war with you, and he will get me at any costs to himself, and, again, if he met you the way you are now, he’d never be afraid of you. He was afraid of you, because I guess he met you and you _did something_ that terrified him, but now, he wouldn’t be afraid of you, and nothing you could do would change that.”

            A moment of silence. “Are you calling me weak?”

            “No, soft. You’re not the person you were back then, Gaara. Hell, you’re not even the person you were when _I_ met you, and you weren’t even scary then. How in the hell would you-!”

            “There are a lot of people that think I’m scary. You’re just not one of them.”

            I glanced at him. “And nobody that knows you thinks you’re scary.”

            “Trust me, if it came down to it, your father would find out how _soft_ I am.”

            “You’re not the person you were. Admit it. He wouldn’t be afraid of who you are now. You don’t even have the same reputation anymore.”

            “Maybe I’m not that person anymore, but I’m not soft. I’ll protect this village and everyone inside it at all costs—and that includes you.”

            “ _Still_? You’re _still_ not going to let me leave?”

            “Why would I? You just admitted that you’re safest here. And I know you’re not a danger to Suna. So why would I-?”

            “Maybe because the papers I used to get into the village are fraudulent?”

            He rolled his eyes. “And I knew that the moment I saw them.”

            “Then why didn’t you send me packing? Technically, I’m _not_ a civilian in your village. I’m not legally-!”

            “Actually, you are. The day I had you come in for an interview, and made you get that physical, I filed refugee papers for you. You are a legal resident in Suna.” A moment passed while I digested that information. “By the way, how _did_ you get fraudulent papers that looked so real without knowing I was the Kazekage? Who helped you?”

            I froze, not really wanting to answer this question.

            “I know it wasn’t anyone in my office. I questioned. And I know-!” He froze, turning to look at me quizzically. “There’s only one person I know that has full access to my office, but doesn’t work with me, who would do this.”

            I swallowed slightly, tensing. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

            “It was Selehevi, wasn’t it?”

            “What? Who’s Selehevi? I don’t know her.”

            “That quick denial tells me everything I need to know.” He ran his hands through his hair, sighing. “Sounds exactly like her. She was also playing the woman who you’d put on your application as reference, wasn’t she?”

            “I don’t know anything about what you’re talking . . . about. . . .”

            “For a former Shinobi, you really can’t lie.”

            I turned away from him, cursing myself. I’d always prided myself on my ability to keep my cool, to lie as part of my mission—why couldn’t I lie to him!?

            “It makes sense. You grew up with her in Konoha, didn’t you?”

            “I wasn’t that close to her until I-!” I stopped myself, eyes widening, and turned away.

            He studied me silently. “Hm. That’s alright, I’ll talk to her about it. She’s a terrible liar, too.”

            “Look, if the reason you’re wanting me to stay is so you can have your answers about why I did it, and whatever, then I’ll tell you. I-!”

            “I already know why you did it.”

            “Oh, really?”

            “You were hired by Orrochimaru to kill me. You didn’t want to, so he tried to blackmail you by telling you he knew who you were, and threatening to turn you in. So you allowed me to ‘discover’ your secret so you could frame me for your murder in an effort to keep both of us safe.”

            I stared at him. “Ho-how . . . ?”

            “There’s a reason I’m Kazekage. It’s not just for my power, you know.”

            I looked away from him, hugging my knees tighter. “So you’re just not going to let me leave? Ever?”

            “Exactly. You yourself said this was the safest place for you to be. Why would I let you leave, knowing what I know about you?”

            “If he comes here-!”

            “If he comes here, I’ll give him another reason to be afraid of me. You may not be afraid of me, but trust me when I say I can be terrifying when I want to be. Now, come on. Get out of bed, go blow your nose, and I’ll get breakfast started.”

            I stared at him as he got out of bed.

            He stood by the door, turning back to look at me. “Are you coming? Or do I have to carry you?” I didn’t move, and he moved toward me.

            I jumped out of bed, just in case his threat of carrying me was real. “I-I’m coming.”

            When I came out into the kitchen, he was drinking coffee at the table, for all the world as though he lived there. He watched me enter the kitchen. “I ordered some more soup for you. It should be here soon.”

            “Ordered?”

            “Take your medicine.” He gestured to the meds on the counter he’d brought over.

            Without arguing—for once—I walked over to do that. I had already swallowed it when I remembered that it put me to sleep, and my eyes widened.

            And then I had a foggy dream—or memory—or . . . dreamory. . . .

           

            _“Shai, it’s okay,” I heard dimly. The voice was half-asleep, and I barely recognized it. “Stop screaming, I’ve got you. I’m right here,” he was saying._

_I opened my eyes, glanced up to see him staring down at me with half-lidded eyes, and felt strangely safe with him there. He looked like he’d been rather rudely awakened, and I closed my eyes again. Not even caring that I was clinging to him, I cuddled closer against him, focused on the steady, slightly fast beating of his heart, and sighed._

_There was a huge part of me that was afraid of when he would leave—and I knew he would. He didn’t live with me, and I knew that, I understood that._

_But there was an even bigger part of me that enjoyed the feeling of his arms around me, of his heartbeat under my ear. He was breathing steadily, and I was still half asleep. I wondered if he’d fallen back to sleep, but when I opened my eyes to glance up at him, he was awake, staring at the ceiling._

_He looked down at me with a slight smile. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I’ve got you now.”_

_And I believed him._

           

            I was staring at him now, and he was staring back. I realized I had my hand over my mouth, and he was just watching me with a bemused expression. I knew he’d said my name, asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t answer him. I could only stare at him in horror as the last part of the dreamory hit me, and I felt it like a blow to my abdomen.

 

 

_I was drifting in a deep slumber, half asleep. I could hear his heartbeat under my ear. It seemed a constant, steady, comforting theme, and I was okay with that. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted him to stay, and I could admit it, even if just to myself, that I wanted this. To wake up like this, with his arms around me, and I wondered for a moment, would it feel this way with anyone else?_

_And the answer to that was a quick, resounding no. It wouldn’t. And I knew that._

_Because I think I was falling in love with him._


	9. Chapter Six: Just Say No.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes narrowed slightly, brows drawing together, but it wasn’t an angry look. A concerned, thoughtful look, but not angry. “Why would I be mad?”
> 
> “B-because I-I stopped you.” I looked away then, struggling to breathe. “A-and I started it.”
> 
> “Starting something doesn’t mean you have to finish it. I’m not—look at me, Shai.”
> 
> I closed my eyes, shaking my head.
> 
> “Shai, please, look at me.”
> 
> Taking a deep, shaking breath, I raised my eyes back to his, opening them at the same time.
> 
> “I swear to you, I’m not mad. I’m not upset. I’m perfectly fine with stopping.” He smiled then. “Don’t ever think that you have to do something like that—you can stop me at any time.” His smile changed, becoming a bit wry. “Besides, we have slightly more important matters to attend to anyway.”

It had been, so far, a quiet day. He’d tried to find her all morning, but when nothing had happened and she hadn’t shown back up at her apartment, or work, he’d given up and gone back to work.

          Yesterday, he’d made sure she’d taken the medicine, and hadn’t let her lax on that. He’d stayed with her, waking her up every four hours to make sure she took the meds, a couple times to eat, but mostly sat beside her reading while she slept.

          After night had fallen, he’d let her sleep uninterrupted. Hadn’t wakened her to make her take the medicine. And he himself had gone to sleep. When he’d wakened, she wasn’t there. He hadn’t been aware she’d left, so he waited for a bit. She hadn’t taken her keys. She’d changed in a hurry—her old clothes were littered around her bathroom.

          So he’d waited a bit, then checked her workplace, and nothing. Finally, he’d gone to the office to get the work he’d been neglecting to stay with her, and the hours passed. Every now and then, he’d send someone to her apartment, or her workplace, to check for her. He’d checked the boundaries of the village and nobody had left, so he knew she was still within the village.

          But nobody could find her, and he found himself less able to focus on his work.

          And he told himself he was only worried because he didn’t know if she was going to fake her death again—especially now that it was out in the open that they both knew who she was.

          A knock at his door made him look up. He shuffled his paperwork slightly, cleared his throat and said, “Come in.”

          He’d only finished the “co” when the door burst open. Blond, blue-eyed, bubbly, he recognized the man who burst through the door instantly, and by the time he’d gotten to his feet, Naruto had rounded the desk and grabbed him in a hug. “Hey, man! It’s nice to see you. How’s everything going?” He pulled back, grinning. “Your sister told me you haven’t eaten yet, so I brought lunch.” He held up a bag, and the redhead knew exactly what was in it by the smell. His grin widened. “How long has it been since you’ve had ramen?”

          “It’s nice to see you, Naruto, but I didn’t know you were coming today.”

          “Well, it was kinda unexpected for me, too, but heh,” he walked over to sit in the chair opposite his friend’s, “it’s not entirely a social visit. I have news . . . and a favor to ask.”

          Gaara sat, studying his old friend, one brow raised. “What is it?”

          He set the baggy on the desk, then set what appeared to be a folder beside it. Opening the baggy, he started to talk. “It’s a long story, but I heard that you have—well, I’ll. . . . I’m not even sure where to start.” He sighed, pulling out the two bowls of still-hot ramen. He handed one to his friend, then tossed him a pair of chopsticks. “Look, I had this friend, before I became Hokage. When Tsunade was Hokage. Before Sasuke even came back to the village.”

          “Yea?” He pulled the lid off the bowl of ramen, broke his chopsticks apart, and began eating, silently grateful to his old friend for bringing food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

          “Well, this friend stayed in Konoha for a long time, and didn’t leave it until about a year, maybe two, ago.” He sighed. “You know her, actually, if I remember right. She’s the girl you fought at the party, the one that went psycho when her glove was taken?”

          He choked on the ramen. This was news. He hadn’t known Shai had gone _back_ to Konoha. Ignoring Naruto’s worried gaze, he grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, clearing his throat. Pushing the ramen away, he set down the chopsticks and met Naruto’s eyes. “Yeah, I remember her. What’s the problem?”

          “She relocated from some village—frankly, I can’t remember where, and don’t care, not the point—and she lived in the village for a long time. We got really close, and honestly, she really reminded me of . . . someone, someone who—well, you knew him, too.” He gave him a heavy glance, sighing. “Satsu. She really reminded me of Satsu.”

          _There’s a reason for that._

          “And we even had some of the same inside jokes. We had a lot of fun.” He sighed. “She. . . . Well, I heard that she . . . relocated here, after leaving Konoha. I thought if you’d seen her file, maybe you might recognize her.” He pushed the folder toward him, then started to eat the ramen in front of him.

          Gaara took the folder, opening it. It was quite a bit thicker than he’d thought originally, and had her stats, powers, missions, and medical records in it. He was fairly surprised to see she’d been an Anbu Black Ops, and had done more missions than most Shinobi he knew.

          “She took missions that most didn’t want to take. The dangerous ones, the boring ones, she just did them all. She was probably my best Shinobi, before, well, she left. And it was my fault, I should’ve been more careful with the missions I gave her, but I didn’t know.” He sighed. “Let me know when you get to the last page.”

          He glanced up at him, continued to read. The last page stated that she’d retired after a mission had gone wrong. It stated she had extensive injuries, and had been held hostage for six months. It didn’t state the actual injuries, just that it had taken nearly seven months for her to be let out of the hospital. And three weeks later, she’d filed to relocate, retired from Anbu Black Ops., and left the village. “What happened?” he heard himself asking as he set aside the file.

          “I sent her on a mission that involved her father. At the time, I didn’t know that, and neither did she—or if she did know, she didn’t say anything. And she took the mission. I didn’t know why she took the missions she did, or why she turned down others, but she was always complicated. I found out that her father tried to kill her, and that’s how she ended up in Konoha. I didn’t know more than that.

          “But after she disappeared, Sasuke and Sai helped a lot, and so did Hinata, and Selehevi. They were very close to her. And it was Sasuke and Se that found out more. I sent her on a mission to scope out some unfriendly Shinobi that had been hanging around the village. As it turned out, those Shinobi worked for her father, and they took her captive for months.

          “When I found out that they’d taken her captive—I didn’t know that it was her father until after she left the village—I sent Se, Sai, and Sasuke to find and rescue her, but when they found her, she was in such bad shape, nobody thought she’d survive. They brought her back, and it took her five months to wake up. Two months later, she signed herself out of the hospital, and told me she needed to leave.

          “And I let her, because I felt bad about sending her on that mission, but after she left, Sai went to look for the people that took her hostage, and he learnt that it was her father, and Shinobi he’d sent out to find her, who’d taken her. And he came back and told me, and I sent him on a mission to spy on her father. He’s been sending back information regularly, and watching her at the same time.

          “See, I’ve known she was in Suna for awhile. I didn’t say anything, because I knew she’d come here illegally, and, well,” he looked up bashfully, meeting Gaara’s eyes, “I felt I owed it to her to remain silent. Then Sai found out that her father had leaked information that he was afraid of you to lure her here.” He felt a chill run up his spine at that. “Sai kept watching and feeding me more information, and as a couple days ago, her father knows she’s here and is forming a team to come here with him to take her back.”

          Another chill ran up his spine. He glanced at the picture of Shai in the folder. “So he’s on his way here.”

          A nod. “I was hoping you’d know where I could find her, so I can warn her myself. I owe her that much, at least.”

          He stood. “If you don’t mind, Naruto, I think this is something I need to handle. Thank you for the information. I appreciate it. And when I find Shai, I’ll-.”

          “There’s more.” Reluctantly, Gaara sat back down. “I’ve been searching for ways to stop this from happening, but her father is going to try to start a war to get her back. The only thing I can think of is if it would be absolutely impossible for her to leave here, and to give Suna a reason to fight for her if he still pushes it.” He stared at his old friend, tapping his fingers on the desk nervously. “And I _did_ come up with a solution that might work on all levels.”

          “That would be?”

          He shifted. “I know I have no right to ask this of you. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to be-!”

          “Naruto, _how._ ”

          “Marry her.”

          He tensed, eyes widening.

          “Maybe not _you_ personally, but maybe your brother. It would have to be someone whose decision would be respected, and fought for, and you know, you _are_ the Kazekage, and he is your brother, and both of you are highly respected, and-!”

          “And you think if I said I was planning on marrying her, and that’s why she’s here, the village will accept that, and be willing to fight for her if he comes to take her.”

          He nodded. “Exactly. I would suggest she come back to Konoha, but we don’t know when he’s coming and it takes at least a month to restate residency. We don’t have that much time.” He paused half a second. “Konoha would fight for her. Konoha will aid you in any war he rages with you, but please, Gaara, don’t . . . don’t just send her off to him. The things he did to her—please, help me save my friend.”

          He studied the man in front of him, a man he’d rarely seen beg for help, but the desperation in his face told him he was serious. And he felt his own desperation, fueled on by the 5 months she’d spent comatose, and the 6 months she’d spent a prisoner. “Alright. But we have to find her first.” He stood, looked at the door. “Takeshi, get in here!”

          Five seconds later, the shorter, black-haired, brown-eyed Takeshi stepped into the office. “Yes, Kazekage-Sama?”

          “Has any new information regarding Shaiyar Tanaka been found?”

          “No, Kazekage-Sama. Nothing-!”

          “Keep searching. It’s important that we find her as soon as possible.”

          Hours passed while he and Naruto schemed, and while he set up the needed documents for the whole thing.

          And on it went, even after Naruto left, he continued to finish documents, and waited while Takeshi continued to field information. Until finally, a knock.

          “Come in.”

          Takeshi entered, then knelt in front of the desk. “Kazekage-Sama, I’ve found out where she is.”

          Fifteen minutes later, he was wading through a dark, smoky bar, with loud, pulsing music, gyrating bodies, and the smell of alcohol everywhere. He didn’t even remember the name of the bar, and he wasn’t sure it really mattered—they were all the same, anyway.

          It was crowded, and the music, well, maybe he’d enjoy it a lot more if he wasn’t here to retrieve someone. That put him in a foul mood—though not nearly as foul as finding her did.

          She was at the bar, in the corner, talking to a guy he recognized. _Akio. I know you._ He wasn’t the brightest of Shinobi, but he was a decent one. He was smiling and leaning toward her, and he felt the immediate urge to punch him.

          _Calm down,_ he told himself. _Stay calm._

          She laughed, throwing her hair back, right before she took a shot. She was clearly drunk, or at least tipsy. And he felt a strange surge of rage boiling within him. He started pushing toward them, through the bodies of half-naked, sweaty, drunk people. _This place needs shut down,_ he thought quite unhappily. She laughed again, and he leant closer. He felt the rage boil again. _Calm. I’m almost there._

And then he leant toward her and kissed her.

          He froze, and something deep within his abdomen clenched. His fists clenched, and he felt the rage boil again, and secretly thanked every force possible for him not being a Jinchuuriki anymore, because he suspected that he would have done something highly unpleasant.

          For a moment, she leant into the kiss, and it seemed as though she were enjoying it, until an odd look passed over her face, and her eyes opened. She waited maybe five seconds more before pushing him away. He couldn’t hear her, but he read lips well enough to know she said, “Stop. I can’t.” She stood as she spoke.

          And the clenching unclenched a bit.

          He stood with her, and he couldn’t see his face well enough to know what he’d said, but whatever it was, it made her glare at him. There was a hint of panic on her face when he pushed her up against the wall and crushed his lips to hers.

          She fought, pushed against him, but he ignored the pushing, just pressed himself against her more.

          And the clenching returned, with a wash of rage that he finally understood. He barely remembered making the final few steps to her, but he clearly remembered yanking him off of her, her wide-eyed, glassy, shocked look, and the angry, then panicked look on Akio’s face. And he swung, not hard enough to knock him out, but enough to knock him back against the bar. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Akio?!”

          Shai was staring at him as though he’d sprouted an ugly, third head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

          “I could say the same to you,” he said coolly, eyes locked on Akio.

          Akio wiped at his busted lip, straightened, and then dropped to his knees. “I apologize, Kazekage-Sama. I did not know you had ties to her.”

          “And if I didn’t have ties to her, you would have continued to push yourself onto her without guilt?”

          “It wasn’t like that,” Shai defended.

          He turned his burning, darkened eyes to her, and she flinched slightly. “It wasn’t like that? You were pushing at him. You said no. You told him to stop. He did not. And it wasn’t like that?”

          She looked away. “It’s none of your concern, Gaara.”

          He felt his eyes flash. He took a deep, harsh breath. “None of my concern? Everything you do is my concern!”

          “You didn’t tell me you knew the Kazekage on a first name basis. If I get in trouble for this-!”

          “Stay out of this, Akio! You’ll be lucky if stripping your privileges as a Shinobi is the _only_ thing I do!”

          She turned to glare at Akio at that. “I told you from the start, I didn’t want to talk to any Shinobi. You told me you weren’t a Shinobi.” 

          He shrugged. “You wouldn’t have talked to me then, and you’re so-!” He glanced at Gaara, then ducked his head.

          At that, the redhead took in her attire. She was wearing tight, black, short shorts, a semi-see-through white flowy top with inch-thick straps that was cut low enough to see that she was wearing a white bra, and knee-high black high-heeled boots. And gloves. Black, leather gloves. And a ribbon around her throat—and he realized then, he’d never seen her without a ribbon, or a choker necklace, around her throat.

          Her hair had been styled to the side, flowing around her in a pale golden curtain that made him want to push it out of her face, and her makeup had been done artfully and beautifully. He’d never seen her looking more feminine, or less conservative—and her favorite outfit was a crop top and short shorts.

          He glared at her attire. “This is how you choose to be dressed at a bar? Are you insane?”

          She glared at him then. “It’s none of your concern.”

          “Everything you do is my concern.” He’d just said that, hadn’t he? Why was he repeating himself? Why was he so angry?

          “Look, if you knew the Kazekage so well, you should’ve said that. I never would’ve-!”

          “Assaulted her?” Gaara supplied, turning his angry eyes to him.

          Akio, for his credit, wilted under the dark, burning look his superior gave. “I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t help myself.”

          “If you don’t want me to track you down in the morning, you’ll help yourself to my office. We’ll have much to discuss regarding consent and what ‘no’ means.” The anger he felt wasn’t fading. He wanted to hit him again. He ached for another reason to hit him. “Obviously you need some basic language re-training to understand that simple word, and what it means.”

          “I know what ‘consent’ is.”

          “Then why did you force yourself on her?” His rage was building. He felt his jaw twitch. “You have no idea how badly I want to hurt you, Akio. If I were you,” Akio’s fear mounted, “I’d leave right now, and not look back. Do you understand me?”

          A sharp nod. “Yes, Kazekage-Sama.” He carefully slipped past him, careful not to touch him in the miniscule space Gaara had provided him.

          “Seven AM sharp, Akio! You won’t like what I’ll do if I have to track you down!” And with that, he turned his attention to the woman who stood in the corner studiously ignoring him while talking to the bartender. Ordering another drink. He gave the bartender a look. “She’s cut off. Beat it.”

          She glared up at him. “What? You can’t just say-!”

          “I think we’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”

          She turned back toward the bartender. “Don’t pay any attention-!”

          “Unless you want to be banished from Suna, you’ll turn away from her and go on about your job! Now move it!” He hadn’t meant to be so sharp, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

          The bartender flinched, face paling, and he turned and walked away quickly.

          She turned fully to him then, and he knew how badly she wanted to hit him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

          “I’m taking you home. Let’s go.” He reached out to grab her arm.

          She jerked away before he’d gotten a good hold. “Don’t you dare touch me. You are overstepping your boundaries, and I would appreciate it if you’d back away, and leave me alone.”

          “Shai, you are in no condition to be here. We’re leaving.”

          “ _We_ are not going anywhere! You seem to forget, you’re not my boss!”

          At that, he grabbed her wrists and shoved her back against the wall, pinning her hands above her head. He didn’t miss the look of panic that fell into her eyes, or the anger used to cover that. “ _You_ seem to forget, I’m the _Kazekage._ I’m _everyone’s_ boss,” he growled, glaring down at her.

          She struggled against his hold, the panic steadily taking more root in her eyes. “Let me go, Gaara, I mean it. You won’t like what I’ll do if you don’t-!”

          “What? What are you going to do? Unleash your wind? You forget, I’ve dealt with that before, and can easily do so again. To put it simply,” he leant further toward her, “you’re no match for me, Shaiyar Matsumoto.”

          Using her real last name got the reaction he’d wanted. She paled and cringed against the wall, looking away from him. “Just-just go away.”

          “I’m here to take you home. You’re not safe out alone.”

          “Nobody asked you to do that. Nobody asked you to protect me. Or take care of me.”

          “What is this about?” he asked suddenly. “Ever since yesterday, you’ve been avoiding me worse than ever. What did I do, and how can I fix it?”

          “I didn’t ask you to fix it,” she said softly.

          “But something _did_ happen. What? Tell me, I’ll do my best to fix it.”

          “I don’t _want_ you to fix it! I want you to leave me alone!”

          “Shai, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

          “Nothing’s wrong.”

          “Liar,” he said softly. “Look me in the eyes and tell me nothing’s wrong. Tell me nothing happened.”

          She met his eyes then, but promptly looked away. “Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be around you anymore. I can’t.”

          He felt his chest tighten. Something there gave an awful twist. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why can’t you be around me anymore?”

          “I just don’t want to.”

          “You said _can’t._ Tell me what’s happened.”

          “No.” And she glared at him again, and he felt that awful twist.

          He studied her for a moment, and all he could see in her features was panic, anger, and fear. Something had obviously happened. He just didn’t know what. “Fine,” he said softly. “You don’t want to talk, don’t. But we’re going home.” And he lifted her over his shoulder, turned, and left the bar, ignoring her screaming obscenities at him.

         

 

          I must’ve passed out shortly after he’d began carrying me non-too-gently out of the bar, because the next thing I was fully aware of was being on a bed. And it wasn’t mine. In fact, when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t my room, either. Instead, it was a beige, huge, immaculately clean bedroom with a potted cactus on the windowsill, and what looked to be balcony doors opposite from the bedroom door.

          I wasn’t alone, either.

          He was at the dresser, and it took me a moment to realize in the dim lighting that I was staring at his bare back.

          I gasped, sitting up and averting my eyes.

          He tensed, then turned. “You’re conscious.”

          “Of course,” I said, still turned away. He had a shirt in his hand, but he turned, placed it on the dresser, and walked toward the bed. In response to that, I slid off the bed and promptly rolled under it. “I don’t want to talk.”

          A moment passed. I saw his bare feet walk closer to the bed, and he stopped in front of it. A second later, he knelt, and I saw his hands grasp the bedframe, and he stood, lifting it with him. He lifted it up over his head, held it there with one hand. “Why are you hiding under the bed?”

           I stared at him. “Sometimes I forget you’re a Shinobi, and then you do things like lifting heavy bedframes over your head and remind me,” I said drily. It was a moment, if I wasn’t angry as all hell, that I would’ve found funny. He stood there, holding the bedframe, and staring at me as though he was holding air. “If you don’t mind, I was hiding under that. Put it back.”

          “Not happening. Move.”

          “How long are you going to hold that there?”

          “Until you move.”

          “And if I don’t?”

          Sand suddenly swirled around him. “I’ll move you.”

          I moved, and he set the bed back down. “I can’t go out to a bar, I can’t hide under the bed. What can I do?”

          “Talk to me. Let me fix this. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

          I glared at him. “You’ve said that plenty of times.”

          “Then you should know that I’m not giving up until you talk to me.”

          Ignoring him, and the fact that he was still shirtless, I looked around the room. “Where are we?”

          “My place.”

          “Why?”

          “We have a lot to discuss.”

          I glanced up at him, then away, crossing my arms. “Would you please put a shirt on?”

          He glanced down at himself, then crossed his own arms and gazed steadily at me. “I will, if you will.”

          I blinked. “What?”

          He gestured to me. “You heard me.”

          “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

          “You’re showing more skin than I am.”

          “You’re shirtless!”

          “And you’re a bra away from being shirtless, too.”

          “Fine. If you’ll put a shirt on, I will, too. I’ll just go home to do that.”

          He walked back to his dresser, grabbed the shirt that was atop it, turned, and tossed it at me. “You don’t have to do that. Here.”

          I caught it, holding it up. A plain, long-sleeved, thin black shirt. “I’m not wearing your shirt.”

          “Then neither am I.”

          I glared at him, then sighed, looking away. “Fine. Fuck it.” I pulled his shirt over my head, ignoring the fact that the sleeves went far past my fingertips, and the hem of the shirt fell nearly to my knees, and crossed my arms. “Happy?”

          “Mildly.” He turned, rummaged through the drawer, and pulled out a white tank, pulling it on.

          And I glared at him again. “Long sleeves for me, but you can wear a tank?”

          “I’m not worried about _me_ being assaulted in a bar,” he drawled.

          “Yea, because everyone’s afraid of you,” I muttered.

          “Talk to me, Shai. Tell me what’s wrong, why you’re angry at me.” He walked closer.

          I turned away from him. “There’s nothing to say. I just don’t want to be anywhere near you. Ever.”

          Silence a moment. “What did I do? Why do you keep looking at me like I’m a monster?”

          “Because you are,” I snapped, then immediately felt bad for it. I’d whirled, hand to my lips, before I’d realized it. “I-I didn’t-!” I stopped myself, then dropped my hand, lifting my chin. “You heard me.”

          He gave me a steadying look, and I could see the hurt behind the anger he was using to shield himself.

          And I crumbled. _I can’t hurt him. . . ._ I looked away, crossing my arms tightly across my torso. “It’s not. . . .” I closed my eyes. “It’s nothing. . . . Nothing like what you’re thinking. You’re not—I’d never—I—ugh!”

          “Talk to me, Shai.” His voice was closer, and I jumped, opening my eyes to see him less than a foot from me. I hadn’t heard him move.

          I growled, brushed past him, and sat on the bed, sitting on my knees and hiding my face in my hands. “It’s nothing you can do anything about. It’s nothing—it’s me. Just me.”

          The bed shifted, and I glanced out between my fingers to see him sitting a couple inches from me. “I can’t help you unless you let me.”

          I peeked out from behind my hands. I was definitely still drunk, or buzzed, and I could feel it breaking my resolve. And I dropped my hands, looked at him, and I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him the truth. But I didn’t have the words.

          So I leant forward, buried my hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and kissed him.

          I hadn’t meant to do it. It just kinda . . . _happened._ And it took me a moment to realize what I was doing, but when I started to pull away, he’d reached up to cup my chin with one hand, and fist in the hair at the nape of my neck with his other.

          He moved his lips against mine, deepening the kiss slightly, tilting my chin upward so my lips settled more snugly against his. I clumsily tried to match his movement, but it had been a long, long time since I’d kissed anyone—actually, I’d never kissed anyone before. Not willingly, anyway.

          Something wet, and warm, touched my lower lip. I realized he’d flicked his tongue-tip against the slight parting of my lips, and I drew a sharp breath through my nose, jerking away.

          He let me go. His eyes were open when I opened mine, but he had a semi-dazed look on his face. Like I’d taken him off-guard. Which, most likely, I had.

          “I-I’m so sorry,” I stammered, standing. I was quickly sobering up now. My own mortification was seeing to that. I started to walk away-

          He stood, grabbing my hand, and whirled me toward him. One arm went around my waist, and his other hand fisted in my hair. He bent toward me, tightening his arm around my waist, and his lips touched mine.

          My hands were trapped between his chest and mine, and I grabbed onto the soft, thin fabric covering his chest. Uncertainly trying to mimic his movements, I leant into the kiss, and a small sound fell from me. My face heated up, and I tried to jerk away again.

          He didn’t let me this time. Instead, he turned us, backing me up until the bed hit the backs of my knees. He eased me back onto the bed, and it wasn’t until my back was flat on the bed that he pulled away. “Scoot up, toward the head of the bed.”

          My heart was pounding, and I almost didn’t hear him over the rush of blood in my ears, but I obeyed, a bit shakily, leaning back against the pillows.

          He followed, hovering over me, studying me. “How drunk are you right now?”

          “Right now? I’m working my way toward being very sober.”

          “Do you know what’s happening right now?”

          “You mean, do I realize I kissed you?”

          A slight nod. “I just want to make sure you’re aware of your actions. And mine.”

          I nodded. “I-I’m aware.”

          He looked away from me then, running his eyes down me, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. He sat back at bit, reached out, and lightly circled my upper thighs with his hands, then ran his hands down my legs, to about my knees, where he curled his hands more tightly around my legs. Without warning, he jerked my legs apart, and leant back over me.

          It was a sudden move, and I didn’t have time to think before his lips were on mine again. I tried to mimic his movements, aware of how miserably I was failing in that regard, and he drew back slightly. “S-sorry,” I mumbled.

          He ran his lips lightly down my jaw, working his arm around my waist as he did, and pulled me tightly to him when he pressed his lips firmly against the side of my throat.

          I felt my heart skip a beat, and for a moment, wasn’t sure why. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered again, and I took in a deep, sharp breath.

          His mouth was warm, wet, against my throat, and I felt heat spread from that simple touch. Then I felt the gentle, subtle press of teeth, and gasped. My stomach tightened, and my back arched slightly, and he bit me, gently at first, then increased in pressure, sucking as he did.

          There was a high, desperate sound coming from me, and I wasn’t sure why.

          His hands trailed up to cup my hips then, sliding under the shirt he’d given me to do so. A second or two of that, and he slipped his hands further up into the shirt, under my shirt, and touched my waist. He drew back from my neck, then lightly nipped his way up to my ear. I turned my head to the side, still making that high, desperate sound, and he took the lobe of my ear into his mouth.

          My mind went blank. I was suddenly hot, and couldn’t seem to breathe right. His hands felt cool, yet hot, against my skin, and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the gentle, persistent feel of teeth, lips, and tongue against my earlobe, and the not so gentle feel of his hands curled around my waist. I’d wrapped my own arms around him tightly without realizing it, and I could feel a strange, hot, trembling sensation in my lower abdomen.

          He bit down a bit harder, and my breath hitched. For a moment, I was aware of nothing but his mouth, but that passed a second later when he slipped his hands lower, into the shorts I was wearing, and he was suddenly touching my almost-bared hips.

          And I panicked. Panic rose in me, and I couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason. While the feel of his mouth still caused overwhelming sensations, I was suddenly panicking at the same time, and I couldn’t breathe. He’d tilted my hips slightly, and I could feel something else pressed against me—and that solidified my terror.

          He drew back before I’d even begun pushing at him, eyes hooded, worried. “Shai?” He pulled his hands away, leaning away from me.

          I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk past the terror. My body was instantly cooling off, and I could see his demeanor change instantly.

          “Shai, what’s wrong?” A moment passed as I stared at him, still unable to talk.

          Finally, I said, breathily, “I-I ca-can’t. I-I so-sorry.” My voice was trembling.

          “Okay,” he said slowly, then shook his head slightly, “it’s okay. It’s alright. I moved a little too fast—I didn’t mean to scare you.”

          I stared at him then for an entirely different reason. “I-it’s o-okay?”

          A nod. “Of course it’s okay.” He sat up, away from me, and I could breathe, then gave me a strange look. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

          I sat up, scooted away from him to lean against the headboard of the bed, and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. “Y-you’re no-not ma-mad?”

          He shook his head. “No. Why would I be?”

          I didn’t know how to explain the terror I felt. “Y-you’re okay, wi-with stopping?”

          A different look came into his eyes. “Shai,” he said softly, “Shai, of course I’m okay with stopping. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

          I just stared at him more. “A-are you r-really not mad?”

          His eyes narrowed slightly, brows drawing together, but it wasn’t an angry look. A concerned, thoughtful look, but not angry. “Why would I be mad?”

          “B-because I-I stopped you.” I looked away then, struggling to breathe. “A-and I started it.”

          “Starting something doesn’t mean you have to finish it. I’m not—look at me, Shai.”

          I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

          “Shai, please, look at me.”

          Taking a deep, shaking breath, I raised my eyes back to his, opening them at the same time.

          “I swear to you, I’m not mad. I’m not upset. I’m perfectly fine with stopping.” He smiled then. “Don’t ever think that you have to do something like that—you can stop me at any time.” His smile changed, becoming a bit wry. “Besides, we have slightly more important matters to attend to anyway.”


	10. Chapter Seven: (Not) Innocent!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not for the reasons you think.” I glanced back up at him, and he was smiling slightly. “It’s not that you’re bad at it. Just inexperienced, and . . . innocent.”
> 
> I scoffed at that. “I’m not innocent.”
> 
> “Oh, you’re not, huh?” A slight smirk, one that made me want to pull away. “In that case. . . .” His arm tightened around me, and the hand at my chin moved to the back of my neck, fisting in my hair there. His lips came down hard on mine, and he jerked on my hair hard enough to force my lips up against his more. It forced a surprised, slightly pained sound from me, but it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it should’ve.
> 
> As a matter of fact, it had felt . . . good.

Hours passed quickly as we all argued, schemed, and I argued most. “You want me to _what?_ ”

            Naruto was giving me a wide-eyed, innocent look, and I wanted to punch him.

            “Have you lost your fucking minds?” I’d gone straight to anger in a way to hide the panic I felt at everything happening right now. After that horribly panicking moment, where I almost thought I’d gone too far, hearing that my father not only knew where I was, not only had set it up, but was on his way here—and to top it all off, Naruto’s harebrained idea.

            I could barely breathe all over again. It was probably a good thing that Naruto had insisted I take the chair in front of the desk, instead of standing at the door.

            Well, kind of good.

            One, I would have collapsed at the first sentence. “Your father knows where you are.”

            Two, I would have bolted at the last sentence. “We want you to get married.”

            I wanted to bolt now, but both of them were sitting on the desk, inches from me, as though they were ready to grab me if I ran. And a glance at the stoic redhead told me that was exactly what he’d do, and was _expecting_ to do.

            “If I run-?”

            “I’ll catch you before you hit the door,” he said quietly.

            “Look, Shai, I know it doesn’t sound great to you, but it’s the best thing we can do. He’s coming here. He’s likely already got sentries set up everywhere, so you know he’s watching you and expects you to leave, and will get you if you do. And you know that. And if you’re here, you’re safe. Gaara’s got Suna stronger than it’s ever been, and if we can get Suna as willing to fight for you as Konoha, you might actually get that normal life you’ve wanted for so long.”

            “But I have to marry-?” I paused at the end of that, not sure I wanted to say it, though my eyes darted toward the person in question.

            “Me,” he finished unabashedly.

            I looked down at the floor, and couldn’t fight the panic much longer. “Naruto, you _know_ why I can’t get married.” I could hear my voice trembling.

            “I know,” he said softly.

            “I-I can’t. I’ll just-!”

            “You’ll, what? Leave? Fake your death? _Again_? It’s not happening. As a matter of fact, it’s time to stop running. You can build a life here. There’s nothing wrong with that. You can finally be free from him; don’t you _want_ that? Don’t you want to have a life that’s not fueled by fear and desperation?”

            “And risk everyone I care about in the process? No thank you.”

            “Whether you stay in the village or not, we’re going to fight for you. We’ll hold him off here either way, and you know that, so wouldn’t you rather fight with us?”

            “It will work, Shai, I promise.” I meet his pale teal eyes, and all I saw was confidence, reassurance. “Your father isn’t a threat to me. We both know that. I’m not afraid of him. Maybe it’s time stopped fearing him, too.”

            “You don’t know what he’s like,” I said softly. “He’s a monster. The things he’s done, and will do. . . . Hell kill you, and enjoy it.”

            Gaara’s eyes changed, cooling and yet burning at the same time, and I got a glimpse of what everyone was afraid of. “ _I’ll_ enjoy killing him.” His voice had dropped to a lower, gravelly pitch, and I fought against a chill that threatened to run up my spine. I could feel his power boiling just beneath the surface.

            For a moment, I could actually see what everyone was so wary of.

            “I can’t say I _wouldn’t_ enjoy killing him,” Naruto added, eyes burning, “but I think I’d prefer to let you have the final blow on him.”

            “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop myself from finishing him off. . . .”

            “I don’t know if I would, either, but I’d try.”

            A look passed over Gaara’s face, and I didn’t catch enough of it to read it. “After what I’ve found out about him, I think I’d just kill him the first change I got.”

            “There, see? You’re safe here. Both of us are going to protect you. I’ll visit every change I get to make sure you’re okay. It’s just-!”

            “You _know_ why I can’t agree to this, Naruto,” I said, turning pleading, desperate eyes to him.

            Naruto sighed, leaning against the desk heavier. “He’s not like that, Shai. I promise.”

            My eyes darted toward the man in question, and while the earlier incident did already prove that he wasn’t like _that,_ it didn’t mean he wouldn’t change if I married him.

            _He wouldn’t do that,_ a small part of me argued.

            “What if he gets—agitated?”

            “I’m _right here,_ ” the man in question said, moving slightly away from the desk. “You can talk to _me_ about me, if you don’t mind.”

            I glanced at him again, swallowing a bit hard, and looked away. “I can’t get married anyway—aren’t marriages traditionally for virgins?”

            “Shai, you and I _both_ know _that_ doesn’t count. You still are-!” Naruto glanced at his old friend, then cleared his throat, recognizing the panicked look Shai gave him. “I highly doubt Gaara gives a damn if you’re a virgin, anyway.”

            “ _Gaara_ can answer for himself,” he said loudly, giving us both hard looks. “And to answer that question, me requiring any woman I marry to be virginal would be highly hypocritical, don’t you think?”

            “How so?” I looked at him, tilting my head, and felt my eyes widen slightly when I actually caught onto what he was saying.

            I didn’t need the raised brow or the, “Do you really think I’m a virgin?” to catch on.

            I looked away quickly, face flushing. “Oh.”

            He chuckled then. “Needed a moment there, didn’t you?”

            My face flushed more. I could feel it burning. “I-I never really, um, thought about that.”

            “Now, what’s up with the whole virgin thing? Why is that an issue?”

            “It’s not,” Naruto said quickly. “Just trust me.”

            “Naruto, there’s gotta be—I-I can’t _marry._ ”

            He glanced between us quickly, straightened, and grabbed Naruto’s arm. “Stay right here, Shai. If you attempt to escape, I will come after you.” He pulled Naruto roughly out the door, and I shifted my weight back and forth for a minute or two before getting up to listen in at the door. No voices. No Chakra signals near it. They must’ve gone further off to do whatever.

            In that case, I _was_ leaving.

 

 

He pulled him out of his office, and to an empty, vacant room next to it, then closed the door firmly behind him. “What the hell,” he started, without turning, “are you two in there talking about?”

            It had been the panicked looks she’d kept sending Naruto, and the way he’d responded to them, but more than that, it had been the way she’d kept looking at him with absolute terror in her face.

            “I don’t know what you mean.”

            He turned, gave him a hard look. “You and I both know you’re not that stupid. She’s terrified of the idea of marrying me, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s _sex_ she’s actually scared of. So tell me, what’s going on?”

            He sighed, ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not something I can tell you. You have to talk to her about it.”

            “Naruto, if I’m about to marry her, don’t you think I should have _some_ forewarning about whatever this is?” He gestured toward where Shai was sitting in the office. “Don’t blindside me with this, Naruto.”

            _Maybe that’s not why you want to know,_ a small part of him said. _Maybe it’s because you want to know why she panicked when you were touching her._

“I really-I can’t.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “If you really wanted to know, you could order me to disclose the information, seeing as how she’s now your responsibility, I wouldn’t be able to say no, but. . . . Gaara, she’ll hate you for that.”

            He paced back and forth a moment. “Earlier, she kissed me,” he confided, “and I reciprocated, but when it . . . escalated, she panicked. Naruto, I need to know _something._ At least tell me, is it as bad as I think it’s going to be?” He turned to look at his oldest friend. “She turned into a panicked mess; just tell me, is it—was she . . . ?”

            “Whatever you think happened, take that and multiply it by ten. You can’t _imagine_ what she went through.” A look passed over his face, and he sighed, then paced, and threw his arms out in exasperation. “You’re right, though. I can’t let you walk into this blind. I can’t tell you much, but I will tell you this.” He stopped, turned, and met his friend’s eyes. “The reason her father wants her back so badly is because he wants to breed her.”

            He took a step back, and for a moment, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He’d suspected something like that, but. . . . “And he tried when he captured her?”

            “I can’t tell you that,” he said, but he was nodding when he said it, “but I can tell you that she went through hell for those months. It’s not going to be easy getting her past that.”

            And with that, he led them back to the office—only to find her gone. And he sighed. “What time is it?”

            “It’s noon. Why?”

            “She went to work. . . .”

            But when he got there, she was nowhere to be seen. He quickly sought out her boss, because he knew, without a doubt, that she worked here today. “Hey, Chouko-San, where’s Shaiyar?”

            Chouko, an aging brunette with salting hair, and a belly, owned the restaurant. She was almost always in the restaurant. “Shaiyar? Oh, right.” She was putting food on someone’s table. Once she’d finished, she turned toward them and gestured them to follow her away a bit. “I let her go when she came in to work.”

            Gaara froze for half a second. “Why? I thought you were promoting her?” Last he’d heard, they were training her to be a chef—and he’d helped her get that position by delivering some of the homemade chicken soup she’d made when half asleep to them and having them taste it. Supposedly, they’d loved it. “I thought you wanted her to be a chef?”

            “We did, but we heard about her upcoming nuptials,” the news had already been spread, “and heard she was marrying you, and, well, we only hire people that _need_ the job. We hire mostly teens, single moms, people that need the job most.”

            “And she doesn’t,” Naruto said slowly, “because she’s marrying _him._ ”

            “Exactly. She was upset about it, but I tried to explain that she doesn’t need the job anymore, and we only hire people that do need jobs.” She smiled slightly. “It was a stretch to hire someone who wasn’t native-born to begin with, but she seemed to really need it, so we gave her a chance. Now she doesn’t need it.”

            “So you fired her? A hardworking employee, who cooks better than half the chefs in your kitchen,” she flinched slightly, “and you fired her, because she’s not a native-born, in-need single mother?”

            “Look, I know it sounds rough, but she doesn’t need the job anymore. She’s moving in with you; she’s marrying you. It’s not like you’re in poverty, and she won’t be, either. Our goal is to help the village by offering employment to those in need.”

            “While I understand, and even appreciate your values, your loyalty leaves something to be desired.” He turned away from her, leading Naruto away. “Great. She’s going to be ecstatic about that. She loved that job.”

            “She’s going to be _real_ happy about the fact that you’re the reason she lost it, too.”

            He glanced at the slightly shorter blond. “I didn’t even think about that. She’ll be real happy with me.” And with that, he knew where she was.

            Twenty minutes later, he was leading the way through the much less crowded bar he’d yanked her out of last night, and he was fuming—only to freeze when he saw her, so suddenly, Naruto rammed into his back.  

            She was at the bar alright, but she was _behind_ it. Mixing drinks. Her long, pale golden hair was pulled into a high, tight ponytail, with two long strands on either side of her face—her chin-length bangs. Her makeup was done artfully again, dark red, full lips standing out most, and he knew from experience that there was nothing coloring those lips. He was sharply reminded how soft they were, and, for a moment, all he could think about was that.

            Then he looked down. She was wearing a very, very lowcut top, with lace enhancing her already impressive bust. The shirt was white, and so was the bra. He didn’t know what she was wearing on the bottom half of her body, but he knew it was likely short shorts. Her favorite thing to wear, apparently.

            _That shirt’s worse than the other one._ Forgetting that he was being tailed, he shoved through the small crowd around the bar, and sat at the bar, waiting for her to turn around. She was laughing, and biting her lower lip—and he had the sudden urge to do that for her, but he shook his head free of those thoughts. He was angry again, and he glared at anyone whose eyes dipped a little low until they looked up, saw him, and looked away.

            “Good show you’re putting on. Really selling the overprotective fiancé,” Naruto’s voice in his ear made him jump.

            He hadn’t realized he’d been doing that. “Shut up,” he growled, eyes fixed on Shai.

            She finally turned, and there was a beautiful, seductive smile on her face—until she saw them at the bar. The smile faded, her eyes widened, and she seemed to pale. She’d started to turn around, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. When she turned to face him, she was just barely concealing her anger. “What are you doing here?”

            “I could ask the same of you.”

            She smiled tersely. “I’m working.”

            “Can I talk to you? Outside?”

            “I can’t, I just-!”

            “Go on, I got this, dear,” the other bartender told her, sending her a wink. “Never can get enough alone time with your fiancé, after all.” She was pretty, thin, but nothing like Shai. She was dark and tall, compared to Shai’s pale and tiny.

            “Really, I can’t. It’s my first day-!”

            “Somehow, I think they’ll forgive you for coming with me.” Hand still on her arm, he pulled her through the small opening in the bar. “Where’s the back entrance?” he asked in a low voice.

            She led him through the bar, toward the back bathrooms, and out to the back. Nobody was out there, and he closed the door tightly behind him, giving Naruto—who’d followed—a harsh look as he did. Then he stopped, faced the door, and rubbed the bridge of his nose while counting to ten before he spoke.

            “What in the living hell do you think you’re doing?”

            “Working.”

            “I saw that.” He whirled, and saw her flinch slightly. “Here?” He gestured behind him. “ _Here_ is where you decide to—how did you even get hired that fast?”

            “I knew they were hiring, and I walked in, asked for the manager, and made him a drink. Five minutes later, I was working.”         

            “Why here?”

            “Because, thanks to you already putting out the news that we’re happily _affianced,_ I lost my job. They decided because I’m marrying _you,_ the oh, so wondrous Kazekage, I don’t need to be working. And I knew they were hiring, and desperate, and I’m good at this, so-!”

            “Because there’s so many things wrong with me providing for the woman I’m marrying.”

            “Yes! I want to be able to buy what I need when I need it-!”

            “And you think I _can’t_ do that?”

            “Oh, what, so I’m supposed to come to you and say, ‘oh, husband dear, I need shampoo.’ ‘Oh, I need body wash.’ ‘I need razors.’ ‘Oh, I need pads!’ And you’ll, what, hand me money to get those things, or go out and buy them yourself for me? Or would I just get, like, a daily allowance—I’m not a child! I don’t _need_ an allowance!”

            “Who said anything about you being a child? What’s wrong with me providing for you? You don’t need an allowance. Hell, you don’t even need _cash._ Just go out, get what you want, and it’ll just be charged to my account. It’s not that hard.”

            “So I just walk in, grab what I want, and walk out, telling them, oh, it’s okay, my husband is paying for me later!”

            “Yes! What’s wrong with that?”

            She glared at him, a mixture of anger and exasperation. “What’s wrong with tha—I’m _not a child!_ I like being able to out and buy my own things.”

            He closed his eyes a moment. “Just because I may _pay_ for them, doesn’t mean they’re not yours. And have you ever heard the saying _what’s mine is yours_? When we get married, it’s not mine, or yours. It’s ours.”

            “No, it’s _yours._ Married, not married, dead, it’s yours. I’ve earned none of it. I want to have my own money, to earn my own money.”

            “And fine, cool, do that, but _not here._ Anywhere else.”

            “Where else do you suggest? I’ve been working less than twenty minutes, and I’ve made almost a hundred in tips. It’s more than I made working in that restaurant, that’s for sure. I _like_ this. And I’m good at it. I’m staying.”

            “You can find something better. Let me provide for you until then. I’d rather you go back to being a Shinobi than do that!”

            “Because being a bartender is so much worse. I nearly died as a Shinobi. I retired for a reason.”

            “Yea, maybe so, but at least as a Shinobi, you had the tools and resources to help you. Here, you have, what, a bouncer that I could bat away with a flick of my hand!”

            “I like this job.”

            “You’ve had it less than twenty minutes. You don’t know that yet.”

            “Why does this matter so much to you? Do you want me to just sit home all day and let you earn the bacon while I clean house and birth children? Because that is _not_ what I’m marrying you for, and definitely not what’s ever going to happen! I’m not a homemaker!”

            “I’d rather you sit home and _sleep_ than work here. If you don’t remember, last night, I _did_ stop an assault on you—and trust me when I say it will happen again, working here.”

            “In case you don’t remember, you’ve already pointed out that I used to be a Shinobi, and I still have the skills to-!”

            “A lot of good those _skills_ did you last night! You were so drunk, you couldn’t stand!”

            “Like it or not, I’m working here. There’s nothing you can do about it!”

            “What is so wrong about me wanting to provide for you, even just until you find something better, safer? It’s not such a bad thing that I _want_ to provide for the woman I’m marrying, is it?”

            “And I suppose you planned on marrying a woman that’s all nice and compliant, rolls over and does what you say? Because that ain’t happenin’ either! I’m not a trophy wife!”

            “I’m not saying—I don’t want you-!” He stopped, drew a breath. Arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “Fine. Fine, you want to work here, how about we compromise?”

            She glared at him. “Oh, hell no.”

            “It’s either that, or I’m going to keep you out here all damn night.”

            The glare faded. “You wouldn’t-!” Sand flared up around both of them, and he crossed his arms when she backed away, staring at the ball of sand they were now encased in.

            “Try to get out. I dare you.”

            “You’re literally going to lock me in here until—fine. Fine. What do you propose?”

            “How about no more lowcut shirts, longer shorts, and you let me provide for you?”

            “Then what’s the point-?”

            “I’m not finished. It doesn’t even have to be things that you’ll use. Gifts for someone, anything you want. Go out in public, put them on my account, and let me purchase them. Just to give a show of me providing for you so people buy the marriage more. Okay?”

            “I’m not agreeing with the lowcut shirts. It’s the lowcut shirts that give me such awesome tips.”

            His eyes dipped lower, to her cleavage. “Fine, but less lowcut, or no deal. How about moderately lowcut?”

            “What’s your idea of _moderately_ lowcut?”

            Without saying a word, he reached out and lightly touched his fingertip to the top of her collarbone. “Right here.”

            She rolled her eyes. “What are you, ninety? That’s not lowcut. That’s borderline turtleneck.”

            “Fine.” He stripped his outer shirt off. A long-sleeved, thin, black shirt—realizing he wore those a lot—and slipped it over her head before she could protest. “My shirts are big on you, so it’s still lowcut,” more than he’d like, “and, in my opinion, a lot sexier.”

            She looked down at herself. “It’s like a dress on me—it’s longer than my shirts.”

            “Exactly.” He crossed his arms. “What’s more is everyone will know it’s mine.”

            She gave him a harsh look at that. “ _If_ I agree to this shirt, I have a condition of my own.”

            “Name it.”

            “I’ll agree to both your conditions, if you never bring this up again. You never ask me to quit, and you never, no matter what happens, try to make me quit.”

            “I reserve the option to bring it up again when you’re assaulted, but otherwise, agreed.”

            “Fine, _if_ I get assaulted-!”

            “Oh, there’s no if. It’ll happen if you work here long enough.”

            “ _If_ I get assaulted, you have the option to bring it up again. Until then, you don’t. You leave it alone.” She tilted her head up to look at him. “Deal?”

            “One more condition.”

            “And what’s that?”

            “You’ll find out when we go in.” He pulled her in against his side, and they walked back into the bar like that, with his arm around her. And when they’d reached the middle of the room, and he knew he had most attention, he turned her toward him, leant down, and pressed his lips to hers.

 

 

            The second his lips touched mine, I almost immediately forgot the fight. All I could focus on was trying to match the movements of his lips. I struggled with it, and knew that I was clumsy, and could my face flushing at that.

            And he pulled away from me, just enough for his lips to barely be touching mine. His lips still played lightly against mine, and when I opened my eyes, he was watching me with half-lidded eyes. Eyes open, locked on mine, he closed the distance again, and my eyes closed again. He wrapped one arm around me, and cupped my chin with his free hand.

            A small gasp, or moan, came from me, and I leant into the kiss. His movements felt deliberate, but lazy, slow. And I didn’t know how to match that.

            Then I felt his tongue-tip flick against the small parting of my lips, and I jerked away. He let me go very slightly, still holding me close enough for his lips to brush against mine.

            He chuckled, eyes amused when I opened mine. “We’ll need to work on that.”

            “O-on what?” I asked, voice a little breathy.

            “You pulling away, right when it starts to get good.”

            “G-good?”

            He leant a bit closer, and ran his tongue-tip lightly across my lower lip. I squeaked, and tried to jerk away. “Yea, good.” He pulled me closer, nipped at my bottom lip.

            I tried to look away, but could only move my eyes away from his. “I-I’ve never—kissed-like that, I mean.”

            “Hm.” He toyed with my lower lip lightly. “Really? Couldn’t tell.” When I glanced at up at him, he sobered suddenly. “Have you ever kissed anyone before, or am I your first?”

            My eyes widened, and I felt my face flush darkly. “I-is it that obvious?”

            He looked down at that, eyes widening, brows raising, in a very subtle, quick movement.

            “I-I’ll take th-that as a y-yes. . . .” My face flushed more. _I must be really bad at this. . . ._

“Not for the reasons you think.” I glanced back up at him, and he was smiling slightly. “It’s not that you’re bad at it. Just inexperienced, and . . . innocent.”

            I scoffed at that. “I’m not innocent.”

            “Oh, you’re not, huh?” A slight smirk, one that made me want to pull away. “In that case. . . .” His arm tightened around me, and the hand at my chin moved to the back of my neck, fisting in my hair there. His lips came down hard on mine, and he jerked on my hair hard enough to force my lips up against his more. It forced a surprised, slightly pained sound from me, but it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it should’ve.

            As a matter of fact, it had felt . . . good. It caused something in my lower abdomen to clench.

            His lips were moving urgently against mine, and I didn’t even attempt to keep up with him as he angled this way and that, yanking on my hair to give him the angle he wanted. Finally finding it, he tightened his arm around my waist, yanking me to him, and giving a twisting yank to my hair, like his fist tightening, and twisting a bit.

            It made me gasp, and he took advantage of that immediately, thrusting his tongue through my lips. I pushed at him then, trying to gain distance, to turn my head, but his hand tightened in my hair, and I gasped again. He used his tongue expertly, playing roughly with the inner lining of my lips, fighting against my tongue, then withdrawing only to edge my bottom lip, and then thrust through all over again when he’d forced another gasp with another twist.

            Then he pulled back a bit, only to suck my lower lip into his mouth, hold tightening on me marginally until I felt I couldn’t breathe, and wasn’t sure if it was the kiss, or the tight hold. He bit my lower lip, sucking hard at the same time, and a low, breathy sound came from me. Releasing my lower lip, he thrust his tongue again through my lips, delving deep as he stroked my inner lips, my tongue, until I made another sound. It sounded like a whimpering sob almost.

            I couldn’t breathe, and I was sure I’d lost all feeling below my waist. All I could feel was his mouth on mine, his arm tight around me, and his hand in my hair—it felt like everything else was distant.

            I wasn’t even sure my heart was pounding—oh, no, there it was. Thunderous, painful, going along with my ragged breathing. I’d stopped pushing at him and was clinging to him as hard as I could, and wasn’t sure when that had happened.

            And then it was over. His lips on mine were suddenly gone, and his arm was gone, and the hand in my hair was gone. My eyes opened belatedly, but in enough time to see him smirk, then turn away, and I couldn’t even remain on my feet. As I collapsed to the floor, he, without a word, left the bar.


	11. Not a chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a chapter. I just wanted to add these two songs to it because they seemed perfect for both Gaara and Shai.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGALaVgwdc0 *female version*

They send me away to find them a fortune  
A chest filled with diamonds and gold  
The house was awake, the shadows and monsters  
The hallways, they echoed and groaned

I sat alone, in bed till the morning  
I'm crying, "They're coming for me"  
And I tried to hold these secrets inside me  
My mind's like a deadly disease

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

I paced around for hours on empty  
I jumped at the slightest of sounds  
And I couldn't stand the person inside me  
I turned all the mirrors around

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head  
They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead  
And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head  
They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04y5Bh7Xykk *male version*

 

They send me away to find them a fortune  
A chest filled with diamonds and gold  
The house was awake, the shadows and monsters  
The hallways, they echoed and groaned

I sat alone, in bed till the morning  
I'm crying, "They're coming for me"  
And I tried to hold these secrets inside me  
My mind's like a deadly disease

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

I paced around for hours on empty  
I jumped at the slightest of sounds  
And I couldn't stand the person inside me  
I turned all the mirrors around

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head  
They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead  
And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head  
They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"  
I can't help this awful energy  
God damn right, you should be scared of me  
Who is in control?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'd never want you to be afraid of me, though I must admit, your trembling is rather . . . cute.”  
> I hadn't realized I was trembling. I knew my breathing was shallow, but I didn't realize I was actually trembling. “I'm cold,” I spoke without thinking, somehow forgetting how hot it really was. I wanted to kick myself.  
> “Ah, in that case, allow me to help you warm up,” he said, letting my wrists go and wrapping his arms around me, bringing me in closer. “I'm sure this desert heat must be very chilling to you.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “As cute as I find your trembling, I wasn't trying to frighten you, Shai. I would never wish you to fear me.”  
> “I'm not afraid of you, Gaara.”  
> A slight sigh. “That was almost convincing,” he said softly.  
> I took a deep breath. “It isn't you that scares me.” Despite still being very angry at him, I slid my arms around his waist, leaning into him. “I could never really fear you. I trust you too much for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done by phone again. Sorry for typos and shortness. Once I get a laptop again, I'll go through and edit to get rid of typos I'm sure I missed by phone.

I stood outside his office door, arms crossed as I glared at the door and prepared what I was gonna say. I don't know how long I’d been standing there, glaring at the door, but it had to have been at least ten minutes. Taking a deep breath, I swung the door open and was immediately greeted by pale teal eyes with one brow raised, which let me know, without a word, he'd known all along I'd been standing there.   
“Nice to see you too,” he said, sitting back in his chair comfortably.   
“How dare you,” I hissed.   
He took a slightly deep breath. “For?”  
“You know exactly what, you-you jerk!”  
“Jerk?” he repeated, brows rising just a bit.   
“Yes! You're a complete jerk! How dare you?”  
He sat back again, sighing. “I've been called worse.”   
“Fine, you're an ass!”  
He stood at that, and I lifted my chin, slightly tensing. Pushing his chair in, he strode quickly and deliberately toward me—then passed me, to the door. I heard a definitive click as he locked it.  
I tensed, breathing a little more shallow, but refused to give him the satisfaction of turning toward him. If he thought I'd be intimidated by a locked door, he had another thing coming.  
“And what, exactly, am I an ass for?” His voice came from directly behind me, and I jumped just slightly.   
“You know what,” I said from between clenched teeth, lifting my chin slightly more.  
“Because you couldn't handle a simple kiss?” He sounded even closer this time.  
I whirled at that, hand raising to slap him, and he caught my wrist in his hand. “That was not a simple kiss.”   
His lips twisted upward in a tiny smirk for just a second. “Then what was it?”  
“I-not-let go of my hand!”   
He stepped closer, still holding onto my wrist. “What do you think it was, if it wasn't a simple kiss?”  
A muscle in my jaw twitched, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “It wasn't a simple kiss.”  
“Then what do you think a simple kiss is?” His eyes dipped down to my lips.  
I took a deep breath, looking away. “A simple kiss is just a brush of lips, or how I kissed you last night. What you did was nothing like that!”   
A slight nod, and he rubbed his finger across his lower lip in what I knew was an effort to suppress a smile. “I'm sorry, should I take it easy on you?”  
I glared up at him again. “Take it easy?” I echoed.   
“I wouldn't want to destroy that innocence you claim to not have.”  
A slight breath escaped me. I tugged at my hand. “Let go!”  
“That innocence you so vehemently deny is a rather endearing quality of yours. I wouldn't want to destroy that with such a simple kiss.”   
I raised my other hand, and he caught that one too. “You let go of me right now, Gaara, or I'll-!”  
“We had this discussion already, didn't we?” He bent slightly toward me, brushing his lips against mine. “You're no match against me.”   
There was a slight buzzing in my head of panic now, because for a moment, I truly believed him. Almost ten years ago, I'd been no match for him when he'd been trying to not hurt me, so what was the chance I'd finally be able to match him? For just a moment, I actually felt scared of him, of how powerless I knew I felt against him. That moment passed quickly, because despite that panic, despite his words, I felt in no way threatened by him. Not physically at the very least. “Then what, do you expect me to just bow down at your feet and beg forgiveness?” There was a slight tremble in my voice I hoped he'd miss, but knew he wouldn't.  
He smiled slightly. “I’d never expect, or even want, you to do something like that.” He brushed his lips across mine. “I'd never want you to be afraid of me, though I must admit, your trembling is rather . . . cute.”  
I hadn't realized I was trembling. I knew my breathing was shallow, but I didn't realize I was actually trembling. “I'm cold,” I spoke without thinking, somehow forgetting how hot it really was. I wanted to kick myself.  
“Ah, in that case, allow me to help you warm up,” he said, letting my wrists go and wrapping his arms around me, bringing me in closer. “I'm sure this desert heat must be very chilling to you.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “As cute as I find your trembling, I wasn't trying to frighten you, Shai. I would never wish you to fear me.”  
“I'm not afraid of you, Gaara.”  
A slight sigh. “That was almost convincing,” he said softly.  
I took a deep breath. “It isn't you that scares me.” Despite still being very angry at him, I slid my arms around his waist, leaning into him. “I could never really fear you. I trust you too much for that.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I'd said. He'd taken a sharp breath and his arms had loosened at that, and I jerked away, ducking out of his hold and around him to the door. “I've gotta go,” I said breathlessly.  
He whirled, grabbed my hand, and pulled me back into him before I'd reached the door. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me tightly to him. “Do you mean that?”  
I was breathing a little harder now, and I wasn't really sure why what I’d said made me want to run. It wasn't like I'd told him I loved him or anything. With that in mind, I nodded.   
“Good. That's all I want from you.” He took a deep breath, squeezed me slightly, then let go. “So trust me when I tell you that really was just a simple kiss. I won't go any further, not until you know for yourself that it was just a simple kiss. I won't push you beyond what you can handle. So if you can't handle a kiss like that, I won’t push that on you. But don't expect me to never kiss you.” I heard him walk back to his desk. “You can go now, if that's what you really want.”  
I did. For some reason, I was still bothered by my declaration of trust, and I needed to get away from him asap. Without even glancing back, I fled his office, leaving him behind.

 


	13. Chapter Nine: Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you mean, it's entirely my decision? It's not like you're a sex toy and can't decide for yourself.”  
> He chucked. “Thanks for that, but I meant whether you have sex with anyone, not just me, it's your decision. I wasn’t including myself in that equation, but I see you were.” There was amusement in his voice. “It's nice to know that you're only considering sex with me.”  
> My face burnt. “I-I didn't mean it that way! I'm not considering sex with anyone!”  
> He chuckled again. “Maybe not, but in that moment, you were only thinking of the possibility of sex with me. I'm flattered.”  
> “I didn't-!”  
> “However, I'm just gonna tell you now, if you can't handle me really kissing you, you're nowhere near ready to handle sex with me, and I don't see that changing any time soon, so I wouldn't get your hopes up.”  
> I pushed against him enough so I could turn toward him to stare at him with wide eyes. “My hopes weren't up! I wasn’t hoping for-I didn't-just because I kissed you-I don't-!”  
> He laughed. “A couple weeks ago, you were making jokes about being on your knees, but now I can't joke about sex with you? You really are scared of me, aren't you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still phoning it!

The village was busy today. There were people rushing back and forth, many people glancing at me as they hurried along. Most were smiling, some seemed like they were studying me.  
I tried to smile, but mostly I was way too shaken to smile at anyone.  
Yelling. People suddenly started yelling. Two, three voices. Someone bumped into me from behind. My instincts and training kicked in, and I worked to grab whatever had bumped me before I realized it was a child. A tiny thing carrying a loaf of bread. He was tiny, filthy, wearing clothes too small for him.  
Shouting made me look up. Two men stopped in front of me. “Thanks for catching the little thief. I'll take that back now.”  
I let them take it. “Thief? He’s just a kid, and looks like he's starving to death. How could you begrudge him a little bread?”  
They stared at me incredulously. “Ma’am, we run a business, not a charity.”  
“He's a toddler. That bread is, what, two dollars at most? For fuck's sake, I'll cover the bread cost. Just let him have it.”  
“Ma'am,” the taller man sneered a little, “you can't go around bailing every little street urchin out of trouble. Start with this one, and they'll be all over you.”  
“Isn't there an orphanage that takes care of them?”  
They laughed at that. “Why don't you go check it out? It's over that way.”  
I glanced toward the direction they pointed. “Okay. I'll go check it out.” Grasping the squirming toddler’s filthy hand, I took off toward the orphanage. It couldn't be that bad.

An hour later, I was pacing outside of Gaara's office once again. This time, I wasn't angry, but I was beyond terrified. I was about to ask for something I never thought I'd ask for. Taking a deep breath, I straightened, went to the door, and knocked.  
“Come in.”  
I hesitated, than opened the door slowly. He wasn't alone this time. There were two Shinobi and his brother standing around. Everyone looked at me, and I froze. My throat seemed to close up on me. “I-I'm sorry. I'll come back later.”  
“Oh, no. They're leaving.” Gaara waved them off. “You can come back later.”  
I stiffened, staring at the floor as the two whose names I didn't knew left. Kankuro stopped, bumped my shoulder, and said, "Enjoy,” with a wink before leaving.  
I stood, staring at the floor, even after the door had closed. Gaara cleared his throat, and I looked up to see him staring at me. “Um, h-hi.”  
“What did you need?”  
I shifted my weight. “I just got back after exploring the village. . . .”  
“And?”  
I hesitated again. “I saw the, uh, orphanage.” I cleared my throat, shifted again, then turned away toward the door. “N-never mind. It's not important.”  
Sand blocked the door. “Shai, what's wrong?” I heard him stand, felt him come closer. “Did something happen?”  
I shrugged, not turning away. “K-kinda. It. . . . The orphanage is. . . . It's really bad.”  
“Bad, how?”  
“Have you seen it?” I finally turned toward him.  
He shook his head. “No, I'm afraid it hasn’t come to my attention.”  
I hesitated again, then glanced up at him. “I'm really sorry to ask, but I, um, I wanted to ask. . . .”  
“Ask?” He tilted his head down toward me. He leant against his desk, arms crossing.  
“Never mind, I just-!” I started to turn away, and he reached out to grab my arm. “Gaara, please-!”  
“Shai, whatever you want, just ask. If I can help, I will.” He pulled me toward him, wrapped his arms around me. “Just ask me.”  
I tensed, hiding my face against his chest. “I'm sorry, I can't ask this of you.”  
“Shai, it's okay. Just ask.”  
“Can you help me fix the orphanage up?” It came out as a mumbled mess I didn't even recognize.  
He pulled away a little. “I didn't catch whatever that was.”  
I jerked away from him, started to pace. “Look, I know it probably seems stupid or pointless or whatever, but I lived in an orphanage for a really long time. I lived in Konoha's orphanage, and it wasn't any better than the one here is, and nobody cared to take the time to fix it until Naruto did. He fixed it, and made it into a way better place, because we both grew up as orphans and when I told him how bad the orphanage was, he decided to fix it. It took time, and a lot of money, but he fixed it. The one here needs fixed, but I don't have the money to-!” I stopped, freezing when I glanced at him face, when I realized all that I was about to ask him.  
A slight nod. “You want me to help you fix the orphanage?”  
“You don't have to do anything. I'll do all the work. I can build. I can put what I make from bartending into it, but that's not gonna be enough, and if it was left to me, it would take years to get it fixed. Decades probably. I can't-!” My breath caught. “I can't do it alone.”  
He studied me a moment, then reached out to brush his middle finger across my cheek. His finger came away wet, though I hadn't realized I'd been crying.  
Turning away, I hurriedly reached up to wipe at my face. “I'm sorry, it's okay, I'll let it go. It's not important.”  
He pushed away from the desk, pulled me against his chest, and ran his hand through my hair. “If it's important to you, it's important to me. Besides, if the orphanage is that bad, it should be fixed.” He shrugged slightly. “Actually it should've been fixed years ago. I guess I just never thought about it.”  
I looked up at him, eyes a little wide. “Y-yea?”  
He nodded. “We’ll get started immediately. I'll have an inspector check out the building while I start the paperwork. You should go with the instructor and make a list of all the things needed for the children.” He flashed a small smile. “I'll make sure you get the credit for this. Fixing the orphanage will go a long way toward making the village love you.”  
“I'm not doing it so people will love me.”  
“I know that, Shai, but we are working to get Suna to love you enough to fight for you.”  
“Gaara, I'm just-!”  
He brushed his lips across mine. “Shai, I know you aren't doing this for recognition, but look at it this way. When Suna knows what you're doing, and sees that you're working for Suna civilians, they'll see you the way I do. They'll want to protect you, and while fixing the orphanage is important to me, protecting you means more.” Before I could respond, he walked around to the door, opened it, and called out, “Kankuro, get over here!”  
In just a few seconds, Kankuro walked into sight. “What's up?”  
“I need a building inspector sent to check out the orphanage. And get Temari, I need her to go talk to the people who run the orphanage. Tell her I need her to find out how many children are there, and what ages the range is. I also need a list of all the children in the orphanage.” He turned toward me. “And I need the inspector to take Shai shopping for materials and tools that will be needed to fix whatever is wrong with the building. Then, Shai, I need you and Temari to go purchase whatever an orphanage needs for the kids.”  
He turned back to Kankuro. “Tell Temari I need her to grab Shai and do the shopping after she meets up with whoever runs the orphanage.” He glanced toward the window. “I just realized, it's too late for all this.” He stared at the window for a moment, face thoughtful and concentrating. “Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll send the inspector and Temari early in the morning. For now,” he walked toward his desk, sat down, “I'll get the paperwork started. Shai,” he looked up at me, “go on home and get some rest. Tomorrow, you'll be busy, so you'll need your rest.”  
I glanced at Kankuro, then Gaara. “H-he isn't even going to ask?”  
“What, you think I'm completely stupid? Obviously you'll be doing work on the orphanage.” He gave me a lazy look, and smiled slightly. “I'm guessing it was your idea.”  
I nodded. “It was, yes.” I stared down at the floor. “I don't want to cause any inconvenience.”  
“Shai, I told you, I think it's a very good idea. And I know Suna will love it, too. I'm sure we'll get many volunteers to help, too.”  
“I agree. I think you'll be Suna's favorite citizen in no time if you keep on this path.”  
“I'm doing it for the kids, not the recognition.”  
He nodded. “Oh, I know, but it's a plus. Just plan for this to blow up.”  
“Shai, there's another thing I need you to do.” He looked up at me, then let his eyes skip to Kankuro. “Kankuro, if you wouldn't mind?”  
“Oh, I never do.” He grinned. “Oh, you meant to leave? Well, damn, and I thought I'd get to see some action.” He winked at me. “Fine, have fun, kids.” He closed the door behind him.  
I reluctantly turned toward Gaara. “Okay?”  
He paused a moment, straightened his papers, and studied me for a moment while biting his lower lip. “Before you came here asking about the orphanage, I was about to have you brought in.”  
My breath caught a bit. “What-what for?”  
“Sit down.” I sat, and he paused a moment. “We've already let the news spread that we’re engaged. It's public knowledge at this point. What that means is we need to behave as a typical couple.”  
I tensed. “And that means?”  
He took a breath, watching me closely. “It means from here on out, we are going to be watched by everyone. Not just in public, either.” Another pause, and he sighed. “Your landlady has already been here to ask where she should take your belongings. Your stuff has been moved to my place. I had your clothes put in an armoire I had bought for you. Everything else is currently still in boxes in my-our room.”  
My heart was pounding. “Y-you had my stuff moved?”  
A slight nod. “Your landlady seemed rather insistent on it.”  
“So I've been essentially kicked out?” I shot to my feet. “Where the hell am I supposed to stay?”  
“Naruto, my siblings, and I felt it would make a better impression for us to live together.”  
I stared at him, throat closing up. It took a minute for everything he'd just said to really sink in. “Wait. Y-you said my stuff was in-in your room?”  
Watching me closely enough I felt he thought I was about to pass out, he nodded slightly. “I did say that.”  
“Why are my things in your room?”  
He took another breath. “Because that's your room too now.”  
I don't even remember moving, but I bolted toward the door, and he caught me before I'd gotten halfway there. Arms around my waist, over my arms, he trapped me against him. I couldn't breathe past the panic clogging my throat. “Let go.”  
“You need to listen to me, Shai. Calm down. It's okay. Just calm down.”  
“How can you say it's okay?! It's not okay! I can't-I can't share a room with you. I can't share a bed with you!”  
His arms tightened. “Shai, shh, just listen to me.” I pushed against him, struggling to get my arms free, and he kept a tight hold. “Stop fighting me. I don't want to risk hurting you, and you're not going to win. So please just listen to me.”  
My legs shook, then buckled, and I couldn't breathe. “Don't do this, please.” My voice came out breathy and shaky.  
He held my weight for a moment, then lowered us both to the floor. “It's okay, Shai. I know this is going to be hard for you, Shai. I know it's scary. But you said earlier that you trust me. I need you to trust me now. We shared a bed the past two nights. It won't be any different from that.”  
“I was drugged, and sick, and we weren't planning a wedding then! It's a lot different!”  
“I'm not going to do anything you can't handle. I know you aren't ready for anything more serious than kissing, and barely even that. I need you to know you can trust me. Us getting married isn't going to change that. Us sharing a room isn't going to change that. Trust me. I'm never going to do anything to hurt you. You are safe with me.”  
“You say that, but what happens after weeks of sleeping in the same bed?”  
“I'm an adult. I have self control.”  
“But if everyone is watching us, you can't just go get laid when you-!”  
He snorted. “Do you think I go out every few weeks looking to 'get laid?' It's not like I can't go without sex. I'm not a wild animal.”  
“But it's not like you can wait forever, either! Whether you think you can wait or not, I'm not stupid enough to think you can wait forever. And that's night after night after night of sharing a bed together. You can't just go out and date random women—as you pointed out, we’re being watched. And if we’re doing this and really acting like we’re the in-love couple, we can't just divorce as soon as we've dealt with my father, so you'll be stuck in a relationship with someone who can't give you—that.”  
He pulled me in a bit tighter. “Shai, I'm not doing this for sex. And I'm not going to die just because we're not having sex. I'm not going to push you into doing something you aren't ready for. If you can't handle a kiss, you are nowhere near ready to handle sex, and I'm not going to push you to be ready. If you ever are, and you want to, then that's up to you. Not me. That is entirely your decision to make. And if you never are, then you never are. That's also your decision. You can trust me to hold to that.”  
I hesitated, but something else needed to be said. “What do you mean, it's entirely my decision? It's not like you're a sex toy and can't decide for yourself.”  
He chucked. “Thanks for that, but I meant whether you have sex with anyone, not just me, it's your decision. I wasn’t including myself in that equation, but I see you were.” There was amusement in his voice. “It's nice to know that you're only considering sex with me.”  
My face burnt. “I-I didn't mean it that way! I'm not considering sex with anyone!”  
He chuckled again. “Maybe not, but in that moment, you were only thinking of the possibility of sex with me. I'm flattered.”  
“I didn't-!”  
“However, I'm just gonna tell you now, if you can't handle me really kissing you, you're nowhere near ready to handle sex with me, and I don't see that changing any time soon, so I wouldn't get your hopes up.”  
I pushed against him enough so I could turn toward him to stare at him with wide eyes. “My hopes weren't up! I wasn’t hoping for-I didn't-just because I kissed you-I don't-!”  
He laughed. “A couple weeks ago, you were making jokes about being on your knees, but now I can't joke about sex with you? You really are scared of me, aren't you?”  
I stared at him for a moment, heart pounding. “It-it was a joke?”  
“Of course it was. How did that go over your head?”  
Relief flooded me and I leant against him. “Joking about it doesn't change the situation. Sex is still-!”  
“There's no situation. Sex isn't a problem. I'm not a wild animal. If we end up having sex, that's fine. If we don't, that's also fine. And either way it goes, I'll be perfectly fine with waiting. Even if it's a couple years. I'm a very patient man, and sex is really not that important to me.” He smiled slightly. “Besides, I wasn't entirely joking. If you can't handle me kissing you, you can't handle sex with me, and no offense, Shai, I prefer having sex with women I'm not afraid to break, or traumatize.”  
I couldn't help it. I snorted. “You can't possibly break me, Gaara, I'm not fragile.”  
A slow, arrogant smirk twisted his lips upward. “Oh, Shai, I wouldn't argue that right now. You can't handle a kiss, so that alone tells me you are more fragile than you think.” The smirk widened slightly.” Unless you want to try that kiss again to prove me wrong?”  
I shook my head. “N-no, thanks!”  
“That's what I thought.” He brushed his lips against mine. “Until you can handle more than a brush of lips, I don't think you should be arguing your innocence with me.”  
I closed my eyes again, calming myself down. “So . . . we're sharing a bed?”  
“Yes.”  
“Is there any chance at all that we can live together, but not share a room?”  
“With as many shinobi that come through my place, that would be too risky.”  
“So . . . that’s a no?” I opened my eyes to see him nod. I stared at him a minute. “I'm scared, Gaara.”  
He flashed a small, gentle smile. “I know. Just trust me. You'll be safe with me. There are nights I'll be working anyway so you'll still get the chance to sleep alone.”  
“I trust you.” I looked away. “It's not you that I'm scared of.”  
Another small smile. “I know, but that's not something you should be scared of. You have nothing to be scared of, not with me.”  
“Just keep your clothes on.”  
He twitched a bit. “Oh, I didn't even think about that. That'll be something we’ll both have to get used to.”  
My eyes widened. “I don't want to see you nude.”  
“I'll keep myself covered, but I usually sleep nude. The most I'm gonna do is add boxers. You'll have to figure out how you'll be comfortable sleeping.”  
“Is full body armor an option?” It was meant as a joke, but my voice trembled slightly when I said it.  
“If you want to cook in your own sweat, go for it.”  
So he took it as the joke it was meant to be. Good. “What about shorts?”  
“Boxers are more comfortable. Lighter material, looser.”  
“Can you add a shirt?”  
He started to say something, then stopped, studied me for a second, then nodded. “I'll add a thin t-shirt.”  
I let out the breath I'd been holding. “Thank you.” It just dawned on me that I was practically sitting in his lap. I jerked away from him, standing to back away a few steps. “I-I'm gonna go, uh, home—oh. I forgot. Your home, I guess? I don't even know-!”  
“Your home now too. And,” he stood in one fluid motion, “I'll take you where you need to go.” He smiled slightly at me. “Don't worry. You'll likely be home alone tonight. I'll be busy with paperwork for awhile.”  
I wasn't sure I’d be able to sleep with or without him. It always takes me awhile to get used to sleeping in new places. The thought of sleeping in a new place, plus the fact I'll be sharing a room, and a bed, with a man. Whether I trusted him or not, he was still male.  
And no matter how confident he was that he could go without sex, he was still male and I knew it wouldn't be as simple as he seemed to believe it would be.


	14. Chapter Ten: Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stopped a couple inches from me, eyes dipping a little low. He reached toward me, picked up the strap of my dark blue silk nightgown. I hadn't realized the strap had slid down, but as he held out between his fingers, it was obvious my nightgown had slipped down my chest. It was exposing a rather large portion of my chest. And when I glanced up at him, his eyes slid slowly up from my chest to my lips, then to my eyes. A slow, arrogant smirk that felt strangely dangerous. “You look dangerously sexy,” he drawled. He released the strap, letting it fall halfway down my shoulder.   
> My breath was coming a bit faster. I tried to back away but my back hit the armoire. “Isn't there something I can do?” I asked quickly, a little breathless. “Since it was my idea anyway?”  
> The corner of his lip curled upward in a slightly threatening way. “You seem scared.” He closed the distance between us, chest lightly touching mine. “What's wrong, Shai? Am I scaring you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still doing it by phone!! Sorry if it's sloppy--which it is, to my standards at least.

The room was still big, a few boxes in the corner, and a new, beige, huge armoire beside the dresser. It was ornate, with two side by side doors, and four rows of large drawers under that. The bottom row was made up of two half sized drawers. There was a plush, white and beige chair in the corner next to the door.   
That chair was where he found Shai, curled up and sleeping fitfully. She was wearing a thin, dark blue silky silk nig that had ridden up to her hips. He'd stood at the door, quickly glanced around the room to find her as she hadn’t been in bed. It had taken a full five minutes for him to find her.

He watched her twist and turn on that chair for an additional moment before he shook his head, taking a deep breath. “There's a bed, Shai,” he murmured softly. He quickly walked to the chair, lifted her gently up, and carried her to the bed. She didn't shift until he had her settled comfortably on the bed under the blankets. 

When she was under the blanket, she rolled to her side, and kicked her legs out from under the blanket. He readjusted the blanket to just over her knees. He went to the other side of the bed before throwing the blanket back to to settle comfortably on the bed. He lay there a moment, staring up at the ceiling. For some reason, it felt odd laying in bed. He couldn't figure out what was wrong, but something was just wrong. It was well passed four in the morning, and he felt tired, but he couldn't seem to keep his eyes closed.  
He sighed, rolled onto his side, eyes catching onto Shai’s still form. He had the strangest urge to touch her. A few minutes passed as he tried to sleep, but his eyes kept opening matter how hard he tried to keep them closed. Taking a deep breath, he scooted closer to her, closed the distance, and wrapped his arm around her waist. An odd sense of peace came over him, and he gently pulled her into him, curling his body around hers. His eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping. He worked his other arm under her gently, wrapped that arm around her waist too.   
She shifted, sighed, then turned toward him. He loosened his arms enough to let her. Facing him now, she curled in against his chest, lifted one still uncovered leg to rest it on his hip. A small, breathy sound came from her. A moment passed, and he jumped slightly when her hand touched his bare waist, at the spot his shirt had ridden up. Her hand was warm against his skin, softer than he'd expected. His skin jumped a bit when she slid her hand up, into his shirt, stopping at his shoulder. Her fingers curled around his shoulder, and her other hand grabbed onto his shirt at his other shoulder.   
His shirt had bunched up with her hand. He tugged it down a little, straightening it out as much as he could without waking her or moving her. A small smile curled his lips upward, and he wrapped his arm around her again. His eyes closed, he took a deep breath, and he almost instantly started to fall asleep.

 _Cinnamon, vanilla, and sand. . . . What smells like that?_ I shifted slightly, taking a deep breath. Cinnamon, vanilla, and sand? It smelled comforting, and amazing, but what the hell was it?   
Whatever I was lying on was hard, and warm. It wasn’t a pillow. My leg was resting on something else hard, higher than my hip. My hand was curled around something else hard and warm. Whatever it was, it was attached to whatever I was resting my head on.  
Then I realized there was a hand on my upper thigh. Another hand was resting on my shoulder.  
Panic settled over me, lungs freezing. I could almost feel my heart actually stop. A small, frightened squeak that was meant to be a scream fell from me. I twisted away, kneeing upward as I did. I hit my mark, according to the grunt. I jerked away, pushing at whoever was in the bed with me.  
And then was wrestled to my back on the bed, hands pinned above my head. “Shai, stop! Stop, it's just me! It's Gaara. Stop!”  
My eyes flashed upward, meeting pale teal eyes. “G-Gaara?” My heart was still pounding, and I couldn't breathe. “What's going on?” My voice was breathy.  
Relief lightened his eyes, and he let out a breath. “Is this going to be a routine occurrence that I'll have to get used to?”  
My breathing was shaky, but better. I could feel myself shaking. His grip on my hands had loosened and I pulled my hands away to wrap my arms around him, under and up around his arms. I pulled him down toward me, a little surprised he let me, and breathed his scent in, nose tip touching his chest. I was still shaking.   
He rolled to his side, taking me with him, arms sliding around me. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.  
I shook my head. “I can't,” I breathed.   
“What?”  
“I can't, Gaara. I can't do this. I can't.”  
A minute or two passed. “Can't what?”  
I shuddered. “This. This, I can't do this!” I pushed away from him, rolled to the other side of the bed to sit up on the edge of the bed. My feet dangled inches from the floor. Resting my elbows on my knees, I buried my face in my hands. “I can't, I just-I can't.”  
The bed shifted. He moved up behind me, legs on either side of mine, arms sliding around my waist. “I'm not going to hurt you, Shai. You're safe with me.”  
I let him pull me back against him, but kept my hands over my face. “This is gonna keep happening. What if I end up actually hurting you?”  
He sighed. “Shai, I knew from the start that this wasn’t going to be easy. Especially since the first time I slept beside you, you pulled a kunai on me. That's why your black pillow isn't here.”  
“I need that pillow.”  
“Until I've had time to go through it and make sure all the kunais are gone, that's not happening.”  
“There are six in there.”  
“I'm pretty sure I only took four out.”   
I tried to stand up, but he didn't let me go this time. “Gaara-!”  
“Shai, I knew how difficult this would be when your landlady came to me. I wasn’t quite expecting you to kick me where you kicked me. But I did expect you to attack in some way.” He rested his chin atop my head. “I know it's hard for you. I know it's scary. Just please try to remember that you really _can_ trust me. I know you're afraid of me, even though you deny it. I'm not going to hurt you. You really are safe with me in this bed.” He paused. “I do have a preference for willing victims, you know.”  
That last line startled a laugh from me. The laugh was shaky, but the joke made me feel better. “Okay. . . . I'm not scared of _you_. Just . . . what you could be . . . y'know, _capable_ of, or what you could want.”  
“I don't want anything from you except for you to trust me. And you should be wary of what I'm capable of, but not just in a sexual way. I've already told you I'm not going to do anything you can't handle.” He moved away from me and I turned in time to see him lying back down. He held his arms out. “Come on. Let's get some sleep.”  
I hesitated, but went to him. I was starting to shake again, heart skipping a beat, or two. I froze about halfway down, staring down at him with wide eyes. I couldn't breathe again.   
He reached up toward me, hand closing around my shoulder. “It's okay, Shai. Just come here.” His voice was soft, gentle.  
I let him pull me down toward him. I was still shaking even with his arms around me and my head on his arm. My arms were curled against my chest, against his.   
He gently ran his hand down my back, then up again, before shifting so he could yank the blanket over us. “Are you cold, or scared?”  
“A little of both,” I admitted softly. “If you want honesty.”  
He started to rub my back again. “It'll be okay. I'm right here.” A soft sound came from him. “Just let me hold you,” he said very softly.  
 _Cinnamon, vanilla, sand. It's him. He's what smells like that_. I cuddled a little closer, breathing his scent in. “You smell good.”  
“You do too. Like white magnolia.”  
“You smell like cinnamon, vanilla, and sand mixed together.”  
A slight chuckle. “Sand makes sense, but cinnamon and vanilla is a little weird.”  
I giggled slightly. “Kinda like a bakery.”  
“So I smell like cake?” he asked, voice deadpan.   
That made me giggle again. “I guess a little!”   
A sigh. “Well, that's good, I think.”  
“I like it.”  
He took a deep breath. “Thanks. I'm glad.”  
I cuddled in against him, threw my leg over his hip, and grabbed onto his shirt—only to realize he wasn't wearing one. A startled squeak came from me and I pulled away as far as the hold he had on me let me. “You’re not wearing a shirt!”  
“Oh. Right. You kept bunching my shirt up when you slipped your hands under it. It got a little irritating so I took it off.”  
My face flushed. “I-I did what?”  
“You kept bunching my shirt up.”  
I tensed. “I put my hands under your shirt?”  
“Yes, several times. I thought it would be best to take it off.”  
I ducked my head a little. “I’m sorry. . . .”  
“Don't be. I prefer sleeping shirtless anyway.”  
Hesitating even more now that I knew he was half nude, I relaxed as much as I could, eyes burning a little. I really was exhausted.   
A slight groan came from him, and he rolled to his back, pulling me with him. I readjusted a little so that I had my head on his chest, arm resting on his waist. He pulled my leg over his hip, leaving his hand a little above my knee. “You always have your leg on me. I'm already used to it.”  
His heartbeat was strangely comforting. My eyes drifted closed. A soft sigh fell from me. His arm had wrapped around my waist, hand resting on my hip. I was strangely too comfortable to care.   
“Are you comfortable?” His voice was soft, a little breathy.  
I nodded slightly, too tired to reply verbally.   
He rubbed my shoulder lightly. “Good, sleep well, Shai.”  
“Mmmhmm.” I moved my hand up to his shoulder.

  
I didn't remember falling asleep. The next thing I was fully aware of was waking up still on his chest, with my hand on his hip. My leg was still up on his hip, and his hand was on my thigh, other hand on my shoulder. I'd tensed up as soon as I'd awakened—and so had both hands on me, and the body under me. He was breathing very lightly, as though he was waiting.   
And I knew why.   
“M-morning?”  
A breath came from him, and he relaxed under me. “Morning.” His voice was rough with sleep. “How’d you sleep?”  
I took a deep breath. “Pretty good. You?”  
“I slept well.”   
My arm was stretched across his hips. It took a moment for me to realize that I could feel something against my arm that I didn't want to feel. I jumped up, arm cradled against my chest. “You're, uh, your-um. . . .” I looked away from him, face flushing.   
A slight chuckle. “My what?”  
I shook my head. “N-nothing.”  
He sat up, cupped his hand around my chin, and turned my face toward him. He was smiling. “You are adorable.” He leant toward me, brushed his lips across mine. “I've got some work to get to. Stick around here for awhile. I'll be sending Temari to get you in a couple hours.” He turned away from me, threw his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. His back to me, he stretched his arms out over his head, arching his back out as he did. He made his way toward the dresser.  
I slid off the bed myself, glanced at his bare back, and went to my armoire. “Isn't there anything I can do, besides shop with Temari? At least until she gets here?”  
He turned toward me, leant his hip against the dresser, and ran his eyes over me. His eyes paused on my legs, and a slight smirk curled his lips upward. “You are beautiful,” he said, walking toward me. He stopped a couple inches from me, eyes dipping a little low. He reached toward me, picked up the strap of my dark blue silk nightgown. I hadn't realized the strap had slid down, but as he held out between his fingers, it was obvious my nightgown had slipped down my chest. It was exposing a rather large portion of my chest. And when I glanced up at him, his eyes slid slowly up from my chest to my lips, then to my eyes. A slow, arrogant smirk that felt strangely dangerous. “You look dangerously sexy,” he drawled. He released the strap, letting it fall halfway down my shoulder.   
My breath was coming a bit faster. I tried to back away but my back hit the armoire. “Isn't there something I can do?” I asked quickly, a little breathless. “Since it was my idea anyway?”  
The corner of his lip curled upward in a slightly threatening way. “You seem scared.” He closed the distance between us, chest lightly touching mine. “What's wrong, Shai? Am I scaring you?”  
My eyes were wide. I couldn't help but stare at him. My heart was pounding. I felt like I was shaking again.   
He smiled then, and it suddenly hit me that he was doing this on purpose.  
I shoved at him, and he took a slight step back, laughing softly while I ducked around him. “You are _unbelievable_!” I hadn't gone more than two steps when he slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me against him.   
“You really are adorable,” he murmured, then let me go. “I'd rather you stay here until Temari comes to get you. Kankuro and Matsuri will be here in a bit to discuss some important wedding details with you. After that, Temari should be here, and once you've finished with her, you'll both be stopping by my office to finalize both plans for the orphanage and the wedding. We have much to plan in a limited amount of time, so it would be best if you stayed here so I wouldn't have to have you hunted down.” He walked around me, giving me a specific look. “And to be sure you don't do anything regrettable, I've had two guards set for you.”  
I tensed, crossing my arms. “I'm not a child, Gaara. I don't need babysitters.”  
“You may not be a child, but you _are_ quite the flight risk, Shai. I've already stopped you from running how many times now? So until I'm certain you're not a flight risk anymore, you'll be accompanied by guards.”  
My jaw clenched. “I used to be an Anbu Black Ops. member. What makes you so certain I can't slip your guard?”  
He turned back toward me, ran his eyes down me, gave an arrogant half smirk, and said, “What makes you so certain you don't have Suna's Anbu watching you too? And _if_ you were able to slip my guards, are you so sure you can slip _me_?”

 

 

 


	15. Chapter Eleven: I want more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He lightly cupped the back of my head, holding me in place as he angled his lips more firmly against mine. His other arm wrapped snugly around my waist, pulling me in closer. A moment passed, and he straightened, lifting me right off my feet.   
> I squeaked, tried to pull away, but his hold didn't allow that. For a few seconds, I struggled, pushing against his shoulders, kicking my legs. I felt his lips vibrate against mine as he chuckled very softly. The very tip of his tongue flicked across my lower lip, and I gasped.  
> He didn't take advantage of that this time. He pulled away instead. His eyes were open when mine opened. He was smiling gently. “I won't push you,” he breathed, setting me down on my feet. “What made you do that?”  
> I looked away. “I don't want to-to disappoint you or anything.”   
> The smile faded. “Shai, you aren't disappointing me by not kissing me. I told you, I'll wait. If it doesn't happen, I'll be perfectly fine.”   
> He looked truthful. Honest. I wished I could really believe that. “I want . . . I want to make you happy. S-satisfy you.”

“The foundation of the orphanage is almost completely rotten. The walls are as well. To be frank, Kazekage-Sama, it would be impossible to repair this building.”  
I stared at the building inspector, too disappointed to say anything. Now what?  
“Hm,” Gaara sighed, and I looked toward him, only to find his eyes locked on the inspector. “So there is absolutely nothing that can be done. . . . In that case,” he shuffled his papers, “bulldoze it. Tear it down completely.”   
“No! Y-you can't, Gaara! The kids, please, they need-!”  
“A new home,” he said simply, meeting my eyes. “We seem to have no choice but to build a new building. I will have our best construction workers put on it immediately.” As he spoke, I felt the despair in my chest lessen, felt my respect for him rise. “In the meantime, we’ll need to find a place to house the children.”  
My mind worked quickly. “Naruto!”  
He tilted his head slightly. “Yes? What about him?”  
“Konoha recently updated their orphanage. They have plenty of room.”  
He studied me silently for a moment. “I'll speak with him.”  
I smiled slightly.   
He turned his attention toward the building inspector. “Dai-San, you may go. Please start drawing up new blueprints. I expect the best.”   
He nodded. “Yes, Kazekage-Sama.” He left, closing the door firmly behind him.   
Gaara gestured for me to sit down. I did. “Temari should return shortly, but as we are going to start from scratch, I see no reason why everything shouldn't be new. So once she returns, Shai, I'm going to send her to get supplies.”   
“I'm going too, right?”  
“No, Shai. You and I have business to attend to.” He slid a manila envelop toward me. “These are the plans for Friday night's celebration. I would like your input on it.”  
I glanced up at him, took and opened the envelop. A detailed plan I didn't really feel like going through. A schedule, a menu, party activities, and—“I am not wearing that!” The words escaped me before I could stop them.  
He leant forward to look at the pink, frilly, lacy monstrosity. After a moment, he smiled, then laughed. “I could never picture you in that.”  
“Must I wear a gown?”  
“We are required to be formally dressed. I suggested the gowns, because I doubt you'd want to be in a formal kimono. According to Temari, they restrict movement even more.”  
I nodded, having been in both. This is true, but . . . I am not into wearing dresses. And I won't wear pink.”   
He studied me a moment, then smiled again. “You would look much better in a pale blue. Like your eyes.”  
My eyes snapped up to his at that, a little wide. “I-I could do blue,” was all I could manage.  
“I'll have them fix this then,” he said, picking up the design.   
“Are they making you wear lace and frilly crap too?”  
He shook his head. “No, I'll be wearing a simple black tux.”  
I scoffed. “You should be forced to wear lace. And teal—for your eyes.”  
A slight smile. “I'll be sure to take that into consideration.”  
“Pink would not look good with your hair.”  
“So I've been told.”  
I peered at him closely, then frowned. “You suck.”  
He blinked, tensing. “What did I do now?”  
“You're a redhead. You should have freckles, but you don't. You should. You should have freckles. Why don't you? Your skin is perfect.”  
One brow rose. His eyes roamed all over my face, and he smiled again. “You appear to have enough freckles for the both of us.”  
I glared at him. “It's not fair. How are you a redhead without freckles? Why is your skin so perfect?”  
“Thank you for the compliment,” he said, chuckling. “I wasn't aware having freckles was a requirement of being a redhead.”   
“It should be,” I grumbled. “It's not fair. I hate having freckles.”  
He reached across the desk, placing his hand at my cheek. “I think your freckles are adorable. I also think they really suit you.” He rubbed his thumb across my lower lip, glanced down at my lips, then leant back, letting his hand fall. “Now, is the gown your only concern?”   
I nodded. “Yes. I'm not wearing pink.”   
“Hm.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I think I can fix that.”  
“Is there anything else?”  
“Yes. I would like to do some taste-testing later today. When I get home. Do you work tonight?”  
I shook my head. “No. I, uh, I work tomorrow though.”  
“Good. And the seamstress wants you to stop by to do a sizing once you’ve left here.”  
“Have you been sized?”  
A slight nod. “Yes, this morning actually.”  
“What exactly is this celebration about?”  
“Supposedly a sort of engagement party. To show everyone we’re madly in love.” I looked up in time to meet his eyes. “So we'll have to play that part well.”  
I nodded. “Got it. Anything else?”   
He shook his head. “No.”   
I stood. “Okay. I'll, uh, I'll be going now.”   
He stood, walked me to the door, opening it for me. “Be safe on your walk home. I'll be home late.” He leant toward me, bending at the waist to brush his lips across mine. Straightening, he had a slight smile on his face. “Are you getting used to the kissing yet?”  
I hesitated, raised my face toward him. A short pause, I closed my eyes for just a moment, then, hands shaking, I grabbed his collar, pulled him down toward me while I rose on tiptoe. His eyes widened very slightly, and I pressed my lips to his. The shaking had spread from my hands, but I ignored it.   
He lightly cupped the back of my head, holding me in place as he angled his lips more firmly against mine. His other arm wrapped snugly around my waist, pulling me in closer. A moment passed, and he straightened, lifting me right off my feet.   
I squeaked, tried to pull away, but his hold didn't allow that. For a few seconds, I struggled, pushing against his shoulders, kicking my legs. I felt his lips vibrate against mine as he chuckled very softly. The very tip of his tongue flicked across my lower lip, and I gasped.  
He didn't take advantage of that this time. He pulled away instead. His eyes were open when mine opened. He was smiling gently. “I won't push you,” he breathed, setting me down on my feet. “What made you do that?”  
I looked away. “I don't want to-to disappoint you or anything.”   
The smile faded. “Shai, you aren't disappointing me by not kissing me. I told you, I'll wait. If it doesn't happen, I'll be perfectly fine.”   
He looked truthful. Honest. I wished I could really believe that. “I want . . . I want to make you happy. S-satisfy you.”   
His eyes widened. “Shai, I-!”  
I jerked away, turned around. “I've gotta go.” Twisting out of his reach, I practically ran down the hall and out the door. I hadn't meant to say that. I didn't even know what it meant. I just knew I needed to be away from him right now.   
“Hey! Hey, you! Blondie! Slow down!”   
Thinking it had to be someone calling for someone else, I turned toward the voice. It was a brunette man stumbling toward me. Obviously drunk. A chill ran down my spine. I turned away, increasing my pace.   
“Hey, I said slow down! Lady, hey, you!” I heard his footsteps quicken. “Stop an' talk to me!”  
Tensing, I found myself wishing I had a kunai on me. Oh, why did I stop arming myself?   
A hand grabbed my shoulder. He spun me around, anger etched onto his face. “I said stop, you rude bitch. I just wanna talk.”   
My heart started pounding. “What do you want?”  
“How 'bout a little kiss? Can't reject such an attractive man, can you?”  
My throat seemed to close. “I'm engaged to-!”  
“Oh, no you’re not. You're just making excuses. What's wrong with me, eh?” He shoved me, hard, and I hit the building.   
Why can't I move? I used to be a Shinobi! When did I become so damn pathetic? “The Kazekage won’t-!”  
“Oh, he ain't gonna mind! It's just a kiss! What's the harm in that?” A shadow fell across him. I got a glimpse of red hair, pale teal eyes, and the drunkard was on the ground.  
Gaara picked the drunkard up by his collar. “That is my fiance you are assaulting.”   
“I was just picking fun at the lady!”  
He set the man on his feet. His eyes were burning. He glanced at me. “Are you okay?”  
I nodded.   
His attention switched to the man. “Go home. Now. If I see you out on the street again, I'll have you jailed. Go.”   
He scurried off, apologizing as he did.   
He stepped toward me, yanked me into him, arms tight around me. “Are you okay, Shai?” His voice was rough, yet soft.  
I melted into him, hands clutching at the fabric at his shoulders. “What's wrong with me?” I asked after a small pause.   
He tensed. “Nothing is wrong with you.”  
A breathy almost-sob came from me, yet I wasn’t crying. “Then why can't I defend myself anymore? Why do I keep freezing? When did I become so pathetic?”   
He pulled back, looking down at me. He tucked hair behind my ear. “You are the least pathetic person I know. You just need to remember that.”   
I shook my head. “Why did you follow me anyway?”  
“We need to talk. Your comment back there, I can't just let that go, Shai.”   
I tensed, leant against his chest for just a second. “Why?”  
“I think you know why.”   
A slight shrug. “Okay,” I said stiffly. “Let’s go home, I guess?”   
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on his—our bed. He was standing at the door, watching me. “Shai, what did you mean by you want to 'satisfy' me?”  
“I . . . I really don't know.”  
“I don't believe that. I think you know exactly what you meant.”  
I stared at the floor. “I just meant that I don't want you . . . going without.”  
“I'm not going without, Shai. How do I make you understand that I'm not some sex-addicted animal?”  
“I don't think you're--that's not at all what I think!” I shot to my feet, going to him. “Gaara, I don't at all think you're an animal. I don't think you're bad. I just know that this won't be enough for you—and it shouldn't be. It shouldn't be—I shouldn't be this way. And I'm sorry. More sorry than I can really express.”  
“Sorry for what?”  
“For not being able to do, to give you, more than this. I want to. Really, I do.”   
He shook his head slightly. “I don't need anything else from you. I am satisfied with the way things are right now.”  
But for how long? An idea popped into my head. I looked at him, tilting my head a little. “And what if . . . what if I'm not?”  
His eyes widened. He'd tensed. I'm pretty sure he even stopped breathing. His arms fell to his sides. “Shai, what do you mean you're not?”  
“What if I want more?” My heart was pounding. I could feel the shaking start. “What then?”  
He blinked, looked away, then back at me. “I don't think you really mean that.”  
“I do. I really do. I want to give you more, and not just for you.”  
“Do you even knew what you're talking about?”  
I looked away. “Sex,” I breathed. “I'm talking about sex. I know what I'm talking about.”  
“Shai, you may think you know-!”  
“I do know!” I leveled a hard look at him. “I know exactly what I'm saying. And I mean it. Gaara, I want to at least try. Please. I want to do this. Not just for you. For me too.”  
“Tell me. . . . How exactly is it for you?”  
I stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. “It's for me, because . . . I want to stop being so afraid. I want to choose this. I want to face my fear. And,” I meet his eyes, “I trust you enough to try. You,” I suppressed a shiver, “you make me feel less afraid.”  
I held his eyes for a long period of time. I knew he was searching for any hesitation, and I knew he'd see it if I let myself hesitate. It felt like hours passed. “Okay,” he said softly. “We’ll try. When-?”  
“Tonight,” I told him firmly. I knew if I didn't do it soon, I'd lose my nerve. “Tonight, because I don't want to wait anymore.”  
A slight nod. “Tonight, then.” 


	16. Chapter Twelve: Kekkei-Genkai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To say the least. Your Kekkei-Genkai is powerful enough to combat Gaara's sand, at least it was years ago. Do you think it still is?”  
> Ah. So this isn't merely social time. I turned to face her, only to find her facing me, a steely look in her eyes. “Temari, if you believe I'm a danger to Gaara, I'd like to challenge you. Gaara may have qualities that irritate me to no end. I may not entirely enjoy being forced to share a room, and bed, with him. I may want to slap him sometimes. But let's be really honest--I'm sure everyone has wanted to slap him at least once. I've no unfriendly feelings toward him. Quite the opposite actually. I enjoy his company, and consider him a friend. I would never do something to risk his safety. I even attempted to leave the village, but he wouldn't allow that. Gaara is precious to me. I would never jeopardize his safety.”

I ducked out of the way of Temari's gust of wind, countered it with a short, strong gust of my own.   
She rolled out of the way, let out a small grunt, and when she came back to her feet, there was a small cut oozing blood. She sent yet another gust, and I raised my ungloved hand up, sending her gust upward, away from me. She ducked to the side, then launched at me, fist raised.   
I blocked her hit, retaliating with a kick.   
She dodged easily, kicked out her own attack. I met her attack head on, blocking her kick with my arm while shoving my knee onto her abdomen. A slight gasp came from her, but she wasted no time retaliating with a quick punch that connected to my left cheek.   
We both jumped backward, appraising the other silently for a moment. “How long has it been?”  
“A few months. Almost a year.”  
“Your defense needs a little work, but your offense is very good. I can help you with your wind, but I'm not much of a short-ranged fighter. I can get you someone who can help.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Temari. I would really appreciate it.”  
“Your hands, the wind comes directly from them?”  
Another nod. “My palms, to be exact.” I fished the fingerless gloves from my pockets. “It’s a rather unfortunate Kekkei-Genkai. Painful, actually. Without proper training, it can quite literally tear you apart.”  
“Sounds painful.” She brushed sand and dust from her clothes. “I'd like to ask a few questions about it. If you wouldn't mind.”  
“Sure, but, uh, I've got some shopping I need to do before tonight, so would you like to tag along?”  
She nodded. “Sure. Maybe I can help. What are you looking for?”  
Oh. Wait. Fuck. That's her brother. I can't just tell her I'm looking for lingerie. Something to entice her brother into not backing out tonight. Why did I just invite her? “Oh. Uh. Some nightgowns really. I've found that most of my nightgowns really aren't suitable for sharing a bed with someone.”  
She smiled then. “Oh, I see. I have a specific spot in mind.”

“This one is nice,” she said, waving me over. She was holding a light blue silk nightgown that would end at my upper thigh. “It'll be a little log on you,” she gave me a look, “but seeing as how you're looking for something that is more suitable for sharing a bed with my brother, I think longer is better. Right?”  
I nodded. “This is nice. I was thinking something like that too.” I gestured toward a very light teal set of short shorts and thin, spaghetti-strapped top. “It looks comfy.”  
“Oh! I like that one.” She bolted toward something red, lacy, silk. A red silk teddy. “Not for you, maybe, but I think I'll get one.” She grinned at me. “A woman always needs at least one sexy piece in her wardrobe. Don't you agree?”   
“I never really thought about that.”  
“Shika likes yellow lately, but I find red to be a better option. Purple would be better, but I don't see—ah, there it is.” She pulled one off the rack. “I love it.” She gestured to me. “Shai, why don't you come look? You might like one.”   
I hesitated, but joined her. She was taking her time looking around the lingerie, and I figured why not, since that had been my original plan. “O-okay. . . .” My face was red just from being in this section though.   
“So, about that Kekkei-Genkai, what's it called?”  
“Fujin no Yoshi. Palms of the wind God.”  
“And what Clan does it originate?”   
I tensed, glanced at her. She didn't seem to be prying, just curious. “I-it's the Matsumoto Clan.” Why did I hesitate anyway? Gaara already knows my true Clan. “My Clan is based in the samurai region.”  
“How did you learn control? Your file states you were separated from your family young?”  
I nodded. “Yes, I was. My family wouldn't have taught me control anyway. They were too busy experimenting on me. I learnt control myself. It took a long time, and I gained a lot of scars from it. There were times I honestly thought I'd tear myself apart. There were several times I almost died.” I laughed, thinking about it. “Honestly, a big part of me is shocked I'm still here.”  
“When we met in Konoha, you were still fighting for control. How long after that did you learn control?”  
“Several years, really. I didn't fully learn control until I was seventeen, eighteen maybe. It was difficult.”  
“I like this one,” she murmured to herself. Not even looking where she was aiming, she tossed her new selection into the growing pile that was our cart. “And your ears, do your family members also have them?”  
I nodded, resisting the urge to touch them. It had been such a long time since my ears had been a subject of conversation. I winced, remembering the sharp cut of Isao's kunai. “They are rather unusual here, apparently.”  
“To say the least. Your Kekkei-Genkai is powerful enough to combat Gaara's sand, at least it was years ago. Do you think it still is?”  
Ah. So this isn't merely social time. I turned to face her, only to find her facing me, a steely look in her eyes. “Temari, if you believe I'm a danger to Gaara, I'd like to challenge you. Gaara may have qualities that irritate me to no end. I may not entirely enjoy being forced to share a room, and bed, with him. I may want to slap him sometimes. But let's be really honest--I'm sure everyone has wanted to slap him at least once. I've no unfriendly feelings toward him. Quite the opposite actually. I enjoy his company, and consider him a friend. I would never do something to risk his safety. I even attempted to leave the village, but he wouldn't allow that. Gaara is precious to me. I would never jeopardize his safety.”  
She studied me, then tilted her head, a slight smile on her face. “I see. In that case, I will choose to trust you. Just don't do anything brash.” A slight nod. “I think that would look good on you, with your eyes.” She pointed behind me.  
I turned. A short, thin, silk nightgown. Silver. The majority of the bodice was black lace, leaving all but a very small portion of breasts visible. It would probably only cover nipples. Spaghetti straps, short, with a slit that ran up the entire left side of the skirt. I actually really liked it.   
The question is, would he?

 


	17. Chapter Thirteen: Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes slid down me, and that feeling of being a mouse engulfed me again. He slid his hands downward, to my hips, under the nightgown, but over the shorts. The heat from his hands burnt through the thin silk shorts. He knelt, ran his hand down my legs, and placed a light kiss upon both inner thigh.   
> I shuddered, a heavy, trembling beginning in my lower abdomen. I clenched my hands into fists, hiding them slightly behind me.   
> Standing, he ran his hands up my legs, leaving a warm trail behind. His hands slid into the nightgown, lifting it very slightly, then paused once he was standing. I chanced a glance up at him to see he was gazing down at me with half-lidded eyes. “Look at me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!*   
> Sex. 
> 
> I tried to write this as a semi-shy virgin. So there are no graphic words or descriptions. It's somewhat vague at times.   
> That will change as Shai learns more about sex and opens up to new words and new concepts. So the sex scenes will get MUCH better and less juvenileish.   
> However, more kinky. Bdsm warnings now.

The room felt more foreign to me now than ever. I was shaking, but I reminded myself that this was my idea. This was what I wanted.  
At the very least, that's what I wanted to convince Gaara.   
The door opened. I tensed, but only for a second, then forced myself to relax. If I was tense when he came to bed, he'd never let this happen. A minute or two passed, then the bed shifted. He let out a slight, soft sigh, relaxing into the bed. He didn't move.   
“You're home late.”  
I felt the bed shift as he jumped slightly. “You're awake.”  
I slowly turned toward him. He was facing me, eyes darker than usual. “Of course,” I breathed, suppressing a wince at the tremor in my voice. I clutched the blanket to my chin.  
He had the blanket settled lightly at his waist. He was wearing a dark t-shirt. “I was expecting you to be asleep.”  
“Was that your plan?”  
A slight sigh. “Maybe.”   
My breathing was coming a little faster. “We had a . . . discussion.”  
“We did, but I'm not fully convinced you know what you're getting yourself into.”  
I stared at him, a chill running down my spine. It made it hard to hide the trembling. “I . . . did something . . . to s-show that I do.”   
“And that would be?”   
It's dark in here, I reminded myself. He won’t see anything until I turn the light on. I turned away, slid out of bed, and walked slowly to the light. I heard him turn in bed to watch me. I stopped at the light, straightened, and flipped on the light. Closing my eyes for a moment, I took a few deep, calming breaths, and turned while opening my eyes.   
A sharp, quick breath fell from him. His eyes widened; he sat up. “Shai?”  
I had chickened out of wearing that silver nightie. Instead, I'd chosen a black, low-cut, silk nightgown that was slightly see through and had slits on both sides, all the way to my waist. I knew the nightgown was meant to be worn with a thong, but I'd paired it with very short shorts. The thong had come with the nightgown, but I couldn't force myself to wear it. I had hoped the nightgown would help entice him to follow through with our agreement.   
Judging by the look on his face, I may have been correct. Pale teal eyes wide, mouth open very slightly. He looked surprisingly stunned. “Shai.” He stood, gave me a quick look from top to bottom, eyes pausing at my hips. “Why are you wearing that?”  
“T-that should be obvious, I'd think.”  
He crossed the room to come stand before me, hands twitching at his sides.   
I looked away, toward the floor. “I was going to wear something else, but I . . . I couldn't. . . . I'm sorry. Is-is this . . . ?”  
“Look at me,” he said, voice rough.   
I did, settling my eyes on his cheek rather than meeting his eyes.  
“Shai, are you sure, really sure, you want to do this?”   
I nodded. “Yes. Please, let me do this.”   
After a moment, an air of finality fell over him, and he held out his hand. I meet his eyes as I lay my hand in his, and he turned to lead me back to the bed. He watched me sit on the bed, and the look on his face changed slightly. I suddenly felt like the mouse the cat played with. He bit his lower lip for just a second, then started to slip his shirt up and over his head. He let it drop to the floor.   
I swallowed hard, trying as hard as I could to keep my breathing steady.   
He took my hand again, pressed it flat against his chest, over his head. “Touch me.”  
I glanced up toward his eyes, then settled my gaze on my hand trapped between his hand and his chest. “Are you s-sure?”  
“Yes.” He let his hand drop, leaving mine where he'd placed it.   
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, stood, and, with one more glanced up at him, placed my other hand beside my other. His skin was hot and hard against mine, soft, but still a little rough. He had a small, spiral scar on his left shoulder. I moved one hand up to touch it. “I didn't know you had scars. . . .”  
“Just that one.”  
“How?”   
“Sasuke. Chuunin Exams.”   
I leant forward, rose up on tiptoe, and brushed my lips against the scar.   
His skin jumped a bit, and he tensed slightly, a soft sigh falling from him.   
I glanced up at him, lowering to the balls of my feet. “Sorry.”  
“Don't be,” he breathed. “I enjoyed it. It felt nice.”  
I stepped closer to him, pressed my mouth to his chest. Another soft, breathy sigh came from him. I took that as encouragement, and kissed a third spot.   
He cupped the back of my head, and I looked up at him. He was watching me. He leant down and brushed his lips across mine. After straightening, he slid his pants down, kicking them aside, leaving him in just boxers. “I want to touch you.” It felt like he was asking for permission without actually asking.   
I nodded. “I-I want you to.”  
His eyes slid down me, and that feeling of being a mouse engulfed me again. He slid his hands downward, to my hips, under the nightgown, but over the shorts. The heat from his hands burnt through the thin silk shorts. He knelt, ran his hand down my legs, and placed a light kiss upon both inner thigh.   
I shuddered, a heavy, trembling beginning in my lower abdomen. I clenched my hands into fists, hiding them slightly behind me.   
Standing, he ran his hands up my legs, leaving a warm trail behind. His hands slid into the nightgown, lifting it very slightly, then paused once he was standing. I chanced a glance up at him to see he was gazing down at me with half-lidded eyes. “Look at me.” I lifted my eyes to his and he started to slowly lift the nightgown. Up, up. Until it was just under my breasts. I flinched, just slightly, breath catching, and he stopped, withdrew his hands, letting the nightgown fall. He sighed, shook his head, and turned slightly away. “I can't do this, Shai. Not with that fear in your eyes.” He moved to grab his pants, walked to the door.  
I rushed after him, grabbed his arm, but he didn't turn. “Gaara, please. Please. I want this.”  
“You're terrified, Shai.”   
My gaze fell to the floor. “I spoke with Temari today.”  
He turned slightly toward me. “My sister?”  
“I told her . . . about how I freeze. She, uh, she helped me do a quick training session, to freshen my skill memory. And she told me it was normal to fear something that your mind views as terrifying, or bad. She said the best way to get over it was facing that fear. Not letting it stop you.” I forced every bit of determination into my eyes when I met his. “I don't just want this. I need it. And I really think you're the only person I can trust enough for this. Yes, I'm scared, but I trust you.”  
He turned toward me again, led me to the bed. “Sit,” he ordered, kneeling in front of me as I did. He folded his legs under him, sitting on his knees, staring at his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Shai,” he began, voice soft, “I understand why you are scared. I even understand why you want to do this. But you've got to understand something from my point of view. You flinching every time I touch you, that terrified look on your face, it makes me feel like I'm forcing you. I just can't do this, Shai.”  
I paused a moment, taking in what he’d just said. “Don't you want me?”  
His gaze flashed up to my face then, eyes wide. “Of course I do. But I also want you to want me. I want you to want me to touch you, to kiss you, and not just because you think it's what I want. I do want you, but I need you to want me too.”  
“I do want you.”  
“Shai, wanting me because you think we have to do this and actually wanting me are two different things.”  
“I want you. I do.”   
“I don't think you know what I mean by want.”  
I slid off the bed, his eyes following me, and reached out to take his hands. I moved his hands out of his lap, then slowly moved toward him until I was straddling his lap. “Then tell me.” He watched me closely, brow drawn a little. Letting his hands go, I slid my hands up the back of his neck, info his hair, and slowly settled myself into his lap. My heart was pounding, I was definitely terrified, and there were butterflies in my stomach. But I closed my eyes and pulled him down to me, stopping when less than an inch separated our lips. “Kiss me?”   
He closed that distance, hands cupping my waist gently. His lips were soft, warm, moist against mine. Full, not thin. I took a moment to really admire how nice his lips felt against mine, before I flicked my tongue tip across his lower lip. He inhaled sharply through his nose, so I knew I'd surprised him, before retaliating by lightly following the slight parting of my lips with the tip of his tongue.   
I dragged him closer using his hair as a handle, and, ignoring my hesitation, opened to him.  
He played with my lower lip for a few seconds before moving to play with the inner lining of my lips. The hands at my waist pulled me in closer to him. He withdrew his tongue and lightly nipped at my lower lip.   
I jumped a bit, accidentally tugging at his hair. He made a small sound, and I quickly moved my hands away.  
He grabbed my hands before I could move them far, placing them back where I’d had them. “I liked that,” he drawled, pulling back from me just enough to do so. He wrapped one arm around my waist and stood, in one, quick motion.   
I squeaked, pushing slightly against him. When I looked up at him, his eyes had darkened slightly.   
He set me on the edge of the bed, buried his hands in my hair, and have a sharp, quick yank so that I was looking up at him. “I do want you.” His voice was rough, harsh.  
The look on his face, his tone of voice, the way his hands felt in my hair. I knew I could push him over the edge with one more push. I swallowed hard, meet his eyes in challenge, and taunted, “Prove it.”  
His eyes widened slightly for just a second, then narrowed. He yanked at my hair, forcing me backward until I was flat on the bed. “You really want to be careful how you taunt me.” His voice was little more than a rough, low growl. He let my hair go, leant over me to place his hands flat on the bed at my shoulders. “I'm going to do this as gently as I can, but if it gets to be too much for you, I will stop. I will leave the room. Do you understand?”  
I nodded, swallowing hard again. “I understand,” I breathed.   
He leant over me, bracing his weight with one hand at my shoulder, while the other hand moved to cup my hip. He brushed his lips against mine, trailing his lips across my jaw, to my ear. A sharp gasp came from me when he pressed his lips to my ear, and his mouth vibrated around my ear when he chuckled. “Your ears are very sensitive.” He nipped at my ear, drawing it into his mouth, and another breathy sound fell from me. His hand moved down to my thigh, slipping into my nightgown to touch bared skin.  
I reached up to bury my hands in his hair, turning my head. That heavy, trembling warmth was building in my stomach again, spreading lower. I wanted to both push him away and draw him closer.   
He moved from my ear to press his mouth against the spot right behind my ear. Another sound came from me. He nipped lightly from there, down to my collarbone, and I squirmed against him, pushing slightly. He trailed those nibbling kisses to my neck, where he suddenly bit down.   
I let out another sound, tugging lightly at his hair. He bit harder, sucking at the same time, and I bit my lip to keep myself from making yet another sound.   
A slight chuckle, and he used the hand he had been leaning against to pull at my hair hard enough to force a half-moan, half-gasp from me. He drew back, used my hair as a handle to force me to meet his eyes. “You wanted me to tell you what I meant by want. I hope I've shown you.” The hand at my thigh moved to my very lower abdomen, almost groin. “What do you feel here?”  
I stared at him. “W-what?”  
“What do you feel?”  
“Warmth? B-butterflies. Tingly.”  
A slight nod. That hand moved lower, between my thighs, not quite touching me, but close enough that I got the point. “Here?”  
I blinked, staring at him blankly. “I don't understand.”  
A slight, amused smile. “Are you wet?”  
I understood that even less. I squirmed, trying to focus on that area. My face flushed, I tried to look away, but he didn't let me. “I-I'm not sure?”  
He studied me for a few seconds, a smirk slowly twisting his lips upward. “Yea, you're aroused.”   
That word made my blush darken.   
He straightened, took my hands into his, and pulled me to my feet. “I want to see you.”   
I stared up at him, breath catching, and nodded.   
He knelt, cupped my calves in his hands, and slowly ran his hands up my legs, until he was standing and once again slipping the nightgown up, up, pausing just under my breasts again. I looked up at him, and his eyes met mine. “You're sure?”  
I nodded, raised my arms over my head, closing my eyes. I was trembling again, but I refused to show it.  
He slipped the nightgown up over my breasts, feeling them bounce a bit as they were freed. He took a quick breath. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed. Hands cupping my ribs, he pulled me in closer until my breasts were pressed against his chest. He held me against him tightly enough I almost couldn't breathe, then let me go. “Look at me.”  
My eyes opened. He was watching me, eyes meeting mine. I could feel my face burning. I had to fight my instincts to cover myself.   
Holding my eyes, he cupped my hips and knelt, pulling the shorts down as he did. “Sit on the edge of the bed, then lay back.”  
I obeyed, not really sure what he was planning.   
He lightly wrapped his hands around my knees, pulled them apart, and I gasped. He paused. “I can stop any time.”  
I shook my head, realized he couldn't see that, and let out a breathless, “No.”   
He pulled me to the very edge of the bed, moved between my legs, and lightly nipped at my very inner, upper thigh. I tensed slightly. “Shai?”  
“I'm okay. W-what are you—why are you there?” I lifted my head and upper shoulders up off the bed so I could see him—then immediately dropped back down because the sight of him there was almost too much for me to handle.   
“Do you trust me?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then grab a pillow and get comfortable. You'll be here for awhile.”  
I hesitated, but grabbed the pillow, settling comfortably on it. I was trembling again. I closed my eyes and slid my hands under my pillow.  
And then his hands closed around my upper thighs, and he flicked the very tip of his tongue across that sensitive area. I gasped, twitching, and dug nails into the pillow. My breath caught when he did it again. His hands tightened around my upper thighs, and his mouth closed over that highly sensitive spot. His tongue, lips, and even, very lightly, teeth, tugged and played with that spot. He sucked the most sensitive piece of me into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, gently nipping, mouth making quick, sure movements.  
I squirmed against his hold, but he held my hips in place. Breathy, high sounds fell from me. A heavy, trembling feeling was building in my lower abdomen. I didn't remember doing it, but at some point, I’d reached down with one hand and grasped his wrist. Squeezing, nails digging in. Powerful, fairly overwhelming sensations were coursing though me, and I felt strangely like a boiling pot of water that was about to overflow. That strange, tingly feeling was building more and more. I felt odd. Like every liquid in my body was about to escape. “W-wait! Please.”  
He stopped immediately, and I let out a small, breathy sound. “What's wrong?”  
“No. Just . . . feels weird.”  
“Weird,” he repeated, then chuckled. “Shai, it's alright. It's just an orgasm.” He took my hand into his, holding it at my hip. “Just squeeze my hand. You'll be fine. It feels good.” He didn't wait for a reply before closing his mouth over me again. The feelings that had slightly faded now returned. He sucked at that spot, teasing it with his tongue, nipping lightly.   
I squirmed against his hold, clutching at his hand, other hand reaching down to hold onto his wrist. His hold on my thigh was tight, bruising almost, and my nails were biting into his skin. I was whimpering, gasping. “Please. I-I can't-!” And then it burst over me, and I felt something warm and liquid burst from me. A scream escaped me. My eyes were clenched shut, and I was thrashing against his hold, but as long as his mouth worked at that oh, so sensitive spot, that overwhelming, almost painful pleasure filling me to the bursting point.   
He finally drew away, nipped up from my naval to my left breast, and sucked the nipple into his mouth. One hand cupped my other breast. His other hand slipped between my thighs, and he began flicking and tugging that sensitive spot, while sucking rhythmically at my breast.   
I struggled against him, hands clutching at his shoulders. I was squirming, painting, under him, unable to get a deep breath. “Please,” I gasped, both pushing and clutching at him. My nails were biting into his flesh again.   
His hand squeezed my breast, thumb toying with my nipple. His other hand slipped lower, and I felt something push into me. He delved deep for a minute or two, then slid another finger into me. Those fingers found a sweet spot inside me, and he flicked across that spot over and over again until it burst over me again.   
I screamed, nails biting deeper into his flesh, body bucking under his, and that same warm liquid bursting from me again.   
He stopped, withdrew his fingers, and slid up my body to press his mouth firmly against mine. His mouth was moist, and tasted strangely sweet. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, toying against my tongue, my inner lips. Then he drew back. “Move up to my pillow.” His voice was rough, harsh. He straightened so that he was standing over me.  
I felt very uncoordinated, clumsy, as I climbed up to lay on his pillow. My body was trembling, and for the first time, I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or simply because I kept having inner spasms. I turned my gaze to him in time to see him toss his boxers away. I turned away, taking a deep breath.   
He settled over me, slipping between my legs. “Look at me, Shai.”  
I did, eyes meeting his. My heart was pounding again. I reached up to hold onto his shoulders. I was afraid now. “Is-is it going . . . will it, um, h-hurt?”  
He flashed a quick, small smile. “Probably. I prolonged the foreplay to help with that. Do you still want to do this?”  
I licked my lips, nodded. “Yes, please.”   
“You're scared again.”  
I pulled to me, burying my face against his chest. “Please, don't stop.”   
A slight nod. One hand moved between our bodies while his other hand kept most of his weight off me.   
I clutched at him tighter when I felt something propped against my entrance. Something thick, hard. I let out a slight whimper when he have a light push against me. It did hurt. My hold on him tightened.   
“Shai-?”  
“Don't stop,” I gasped. “Don't stop.”  
A pause, and he gave one powerful thrust that sent the tip of him into me.   
I whimpered, and he paused again. I didn't want him to pause. I thrust my hips upward to meet his, taking more of him into me. My body stretched to what felt like its limit to accommodate his, and I blinked back tears. A pained, breathy sound came from me.  
A soft, husky sound came from him. “Shai, why did you do that?”  
“Don't stop,” was all I gave in reply.  
He took a deep breath. “It won't last,” he murmured. “Not forever. I promise.”   
“Please.”   
A shiver ran through him. I could feel him tensing. Then he took a deep breath, and he was pulling himself out. It felt like my body was holding his hostage. It hurt, and I dug my nails in. He had maybe pulled halfway out before pushing back inside me.   
My body fought his every centimeter of the way. Oh, fuck, it hurt. But the more he moved, the more he slid in and out of me, the easier it seemed, the less it hurt. My body was adjusting to his. Slowly, maybe, but it was. The pain was fading. The pained sounds slowly stopped, and I was soon making very different sounds.   
He thrust that part of him as deep as he could into my body, hitting the end of me, and I let out a slight, strangled scream. A deep, throaty sound came from him, and I echoed that as he shoved into me. “Let go,” he ordered.  
I did, moving my hands to his upper arms.  
He moved away from me, getting to his knees, and lifted my hips up toward his. This way, the angle was sharper, different. I gasped, and his fingers dug into my hips while mine found the pillow. He thrust his hips against mine, hard, fast, and another half-scream escaped me.   
My back arched, and he moved one hand upward to cup my breast, squeezing. I wrapped my fingers around his forearm, squeezing. I looked at him, watching him move. His movements started at his waist, almost like a sort of rolling, thrusting movement. Whatever it was exactly, the movement made the head of him slide over that sweet spot during the thrust, while the shaft slid over it on the withdrawal. It was strangely satisfying to watch.  
When I looked up, he was watching me, a very slight smirk on his face. The hand cupping my breast slid down my ribs, down my waist, and to that very sensitive spot.   
A strangled half-scream escaped me, and I threw my head backward, against the pillow, back arching seemingly on its own. I couldn't find the breath to scream. The most that came from me now we're breathy, gasping moans. I still had hold of his wrist, and my other hand clawed at the sheets. That strange tingly warmth was building again.   
“You're spasming around me,” he murmured. “You're about to cum again.”  
I bit my lip, fighting against that building warmth. I didn't like that feeling, especially the feeling of something liquid bursting from me. I didn't like the loss of control that came with it either. I sent a wild, desperate look to him. “Please,” I gasped, pushing at his hand. “Please-!”  
It burst again, that feeling, that liquid. I tried to scream, but nothing came. I thrashed against him, trying to push his hand away, but he either didn't notice, or he fought back to keep his hand there, tugging and flicking and rubbing that spot. I couldn't breathe. My body thrashed against his of its own accord, tightening around his in an almost-painful way. The more I spasmed around his body, the more it hurt again, but I couldn't control it. It wouldn't stop.   
Then he thrust as deep as he could into me, hard, threw his head back, and let out a throaty, husky sound. The hand at hip tightened, and he brought me over that edge one more time. My body pulsed around his, shooting out what felt like the last bit of liquid my body could hold. He let my hips fall back to the bed and he dropped to hover above me, breathing just a little hard. His mouth pressed to mine, one hand burying in my hair, pulling sharply. He bit my lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, then slipped his tongue into my mouth.   
His hand was suddenly back at that spot, playing again. His tongue played with mine, lips and teeth teasing my lips. My nails were digging into his back again, and I squirmed against him, trying to mumble out protests. My body felt as though I'd run miles. I was sure I couldn't take much more of this, and I knew there couldn't be any liquid left inside me to expel. I didn't know how he seemed perfectly fine, ready and able for more. I knew I just couldn't.   
He didn't stop until he'd brought me again, then once more. It felt like hours had passed when he finally moved his hand away. He pulled his mouth from mine. “Look at me, Shai,” he murmured.  
It was ridiculously hard opening my eyes. I felt so exhausted. Sweaty. Sticky. Wet. But I forced my eyes open so I could meet his.   
He smiled. “You look exhausted.”   
I blinked, nodded. “Mm-hmm,” I moaned, too tired for words.   
His smile widened slightly. “I'll let you off easy this time,” he said, rolling off me to lay on his side, facing me. He held his arms out to me.   
I hesitated, eyes flashing from his arms to his face.   
He chuckled. “Shai, I won’t bite. You look like you can't take any more. I'm giving you mercy.”   
I gratefully went to him, letting his arms close around me. His skin was hot, sweaty against mine. I could feel my heart pounding, yet his heart was beating oh, so steadily. “Not fair,” I gasped.   
“What's not fair?”  
“I can barely breathe. You're perfectly fine.”  
He laughed then. “To be fair, Shai, I've had a lot more experience than you've had. I'll admit you surprised me though. You're shaved, and you squirt. Two things I wouldn't have guessed about you.”  
I blushed. “Shh. I'm sleeping.”   
“Liar,” he breathed. “We’ll have to build up your endurance. I'd like to be able to really let loose. Next time.”  
“You want to do this again?”  
He studied me a moment. “Yes, I do. Don't you?”  
I nodded. “I-I wouldn't mind it.”  
“You wouldn't mind it.” A half-smile. “Do you want to do this again? With me.”  
I stared at him. “I'll answer that if you answer a question of mine.”  
“Anything.”  
“When will the spasms stop?”  
His eyes widened. For a moment, he looked stunned, then he laughed. “You're still spasming?”   
“Is-is it not normal?”  
“It's unusual, but you're extremely sensitive. It takes less than a minute to make you cum. So I'm not surprised. Now, answer my question. Do you want to do this again?”  
I focused my eyes on his shoulder. “I-I would.”  
“And not for me?”  
“Not just for you.”  
A slight smirk. “Get some sleep, Shai. You'll need it.”   
I nodded, cuddled into him further. “Good night, Gaara.”

  
He waited until deep, steady breaths told him she was asleep. It took maybe fifteen minutes. She never falls asleep that fast. He studied her sleeping, peaceful features. She looked younger, so much more relaxed, asleep. He liked watching her sleep. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed. He stroked her cheek, leant down to brush a quick, gentle kiss across her lips, then her forehead.   
There was something about her. Something that both drove him crazy, and endeared her to him. She was wild and crazy and irritating, but for some reason, all those traits made him so much more crazy about her.   
“How did this happen?” he asked himself. “You came to Suna illegally, and yet, instead of kicking you out or imprisoning you like I should've—like I normally would've—I granted you asylum. I knew you, the moment I saw you. You framed me for your murder, yet I've been protecting you ever since. Why?”  
He asked a question he already had an answer for. He'd known since that day she'd kissed him. Hell, he'd known since the night she'd pulled a kunai on him. The answer was obvious, simple and yet not simple.   
A soft, gentle smile graced his lips. He gazed down at the woman who had driven him to the brink of insanity multiple times. “I love you, Shai.” 


	18. Chapter Fourteen: Truth Unfolds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And then I realized. Yesterday, I finally realized, it didn't have to be a fight. It shouldn't be. I shouldn't have to fight for that, for the right to choose. I realized I had that right already. And I realized I could use it.” I raised my head then, turning to look at him for just a second before staring at the wall. He was watching me, a strange look on his face. “And I chose you. I wanted to choose, and I failed to realize I could. I could choose. Initially, I did want to do it for you. You were the push behind it. But then I talked to Temari and I realized that wasn’t enough of a reason.   
> “And I also realized I had another reason. I trust you. And I made what feels like a kinda selfish decision. I decided I didn't want to protect it anymore. So I decided to thrust that responsibility onto you. I decided to give what I'd been fighting to protect to you.”  
> Silence. I didn't chance a look at him. “Shai. . . . Are you telling me, before last night, you were . . . you were a virgin?”

Warmth. Almost hot. Skin. Bare skin. There was an arm around my waist, a nude, warm body pressed against my back.   
“Don't freak out,” he murmured. I knew that voice.   
And everything came back to me. My face flushed, and I clutched the blanket to my chest. “M-morning.” My head was resting on his arm, his other arm around my waist.   
“Morning. How do you feel?”   
“Like I need a shower.”  
“That's not quite what I meant.”  
I stretched my legs outward, wincing. “Ow,” I breathed. “Sore.”  
“I figured you would be. There was a bit of blood last night.”  
“Blood?”  
“How sore?”  
I stretched again, focusing on my thighs and pelvic area. “It really hurts. It didn't last night.”  
“Endorphins, exhaustion. It's understandable. It would be best if you tried to rest today.” Warm, moist lips brushed my shoulder. “I apologize. I thought the foreplay would help prevent tearing. I'll have to be more careful next time. You're much smaller than I'd anticipated.”   
I wasn’t really sure what to say to that. “Sorry?”  
“Don't be. It's my fault, not yours.” He kissed my shoulder again. “Turn around.”  
My breath caught. “I can't.”  
“Why?”  
“I-I'm nude.”  
He tensed, then laughed. “Shai, I'm well acquainted to your body. I've seen it, touched it, tasted it, and felt it. I don't think you've got anything to hide from me at this point.”  
I clutched the blanket tighter. “But-!”  
“Would you feel better if I closed my eyes?”  
I nodded.   
“They're closed.”  
“If I turn around and your eyes are open, I'll-I'll bite you!”   
A chuckle. “Didn't get enough last night?”  
“W-what?”  
“Biting. I enjoy it.”  
I blushed, more at the tone of his voice than his words. “Your eyes.”  
“Closed.”  
I turned. His eyes were closed. I pressed my arms against my chest. “Okay.”  
His eyes opened. He smiled slightly. “Shai,” he chuckled, “really?”  
My stomach knotted. “What?”  
He tugged at my arms gently. “I’d rather you not hide from me, but I understand that you’re uncomfortable. It's okay.”   
I glanced up at him. “Y-yea?”  
A nod. “I'll wait until you're comfortable enough to not hide. You should know, however, that I'm not going to jump you and fuck you just because you're naked.”  
I glanced at him again, then, taking a deep, shaky breath, I moved my arms away.   
His eyes flashed down for just a second, and he sighed. “Don't. Don't just do that because you think it's what I want. What I want is for you to be comfortable. To trust me. I don't want you to just do whatever you think I want you to do.”  
I shifted slightly. “I didn't do it for you,” I said softly.   
He smiled then. “Shai, did you want last night because you thought it was what I wanted? Please be honest with me now. It's already happened.”  
My eyes closed. “I . . . I didn't. . . .”  
“Shai, please.”  
The plea in his voice broke me. “I did it because I didn't want you to. . . . I wanted you to. . . . I just wanted you to be happy.”  
“Shai, I don't need sex to be happy. I was perfectly content to-!”  
“ _Content_ is not the same as happy, Gaara. It's not the same as satisfied. You deserve better. You deserve more than what I can give you. I mean, what I could've. I can give you more now. I can _be_ more, be better.” I opened my eyes to see him studying me with intense eyes. “Gaara, I wanted to be better for you, but I also did want to stop being so damn afraid all the time.” I pushed away from him, sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest. “I'll admit, I didn't tell you everything, perhaps, but I also didn't lie to you.”   
He sat up, letting the blanket fall to his waist. “Explain. Please.”  
I swallowed hard. “I've never been one to run from my fears. I've always confronted, with my father being the only exception. What we did last night, just the _thought_ of that utterly terrified me. I wanted to stop being so damn afraid, and I also wanted to give you what you deserve. You deserve better than what I was giving you. You deserve better. So I killed two birds with one stone. I gave you more, and faced my fear. I faced you. I faced sex. And it was hard. I was scared. But I needed to do it. Not just for you.” I drew my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around them. “I think I need to tell you something, so maybe you'll understand.”  
A slight nod. “Whatever you feel you need to do.”  
I hesitated. “Naruto showed you my file, didn't he?”  
He paused before answering, and when he did, his voice was very careful. “Yes.”   
_Breathe in, breathe out. Deep breaths._ “Those months I was a captive of my father's men were hell. They tortured me.” I closed my eyes. “I've never told this to anyone. Naruto has guessed, but I've never told him. He thinks he knows, but he doesn't. Not really. Not the truth.”  
“What's the truth?”  
I buried my head against my knees, grabbing onto the blanket tightly. “Every time someone touches me, every time someone tried to, I panicked because. . . . For months, I fought them off. For months, I fought to stay alive. I've been so goddamned scared sometime would succeed where they failed. I've been so scared that I’d finally lose that fight too. I was so scared someone would finally take what I'd fought months to protect. I wanted—needed to be able to choose who won that fight.   
“And then I realized. Yesterday, I finally realized, it didn't have to be a fight. It shouldn't be. I shouldn't have to fight for that, for the right to choose. I realized I had that right already. And I realized I could use it.” I raised my head then, turning to look at him for just a second before staring at the wall. He was watching me, a strange look on his face. “And I chose you. I wanted to choose, and I failed to realize I could. I could choose. Initially, I did want to do it for you. You were the push behind it. But then I talked to Temari and I realized that wasn’t enough of a reason.   
“And I also realized I had another reason. I trust you. And I made what feels like a kinda selfish decision. I decided I didn't want to protect it anymore. So I decided to thrust that responsibility onto you. I decided to give what I'd been fighting to protect to you.”  
Silence. I didn't chance a look at him. “Shai. . . . Are you telling me, before last night, you were . . . you were a virgin?”  
I didn't really know how to answer.   
“You said you'd fought those months to protect it. Are you talking about your virginity?”  
My eyes closed. I nodded. “There were . . . several close calls, but I was able to fight them off. The night I was rescued, the men lost their patience and just . . . tortured me four hours. But no, they never were able to win. I escaped them, just barely, but I escaped without them successfully raping me.”  
He fell silent for several moments. “You were a virgin.” A few more seconds passed. “But you said, when we were first discussing the marriage, you said marriage was meant for virgins. You said you weren't a virgin.”  
“Of course I said that. I was trying to find a way out of the marriage. I thought, or hoped rather, that that would change things.”   
He stood quickly, reached down to grab his boxers, pulled them on. Clothed in boxers, he paced in front of the bed. “Shai, why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?”  
I watched him pace. “Does it make a difference?”   
“Yes, dammit, it makes a _huge_ difference!”   
My breath caught. I tensed, clutching my knees against my chest. “G-Gaara?”  
He glanced at me, stopped, and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just wish you'd told me the truth. Last night would've gone differently if I'd known.”  
“H-how?” I stammered.   
“I would've been more gentle. You wouldn't have bled so much if I'd known. I would've gone slower, introduced you to it a lot slower.” He ran his hand through his hair, staring at me. “Shai, if you'd told me, I would've spent a _lot_ more time on foreplay.”  
Wrapping the blanket around myself, I stood and went to him. He watched me, eyes torn. I really was sore, it hurt to walk. “You thought I'd been raped. Why does it make a difference?”  
“First times often hurt for women, but not for long if you know what you're doing and take your time. I thought you'd had consensual sex at some point. I thought there was a good possibility of that. I was under the assumption your body had already adjusted to penetration. I would've done things in a much better, slower way than I'd done last night. I would’ve spent more time preparing you. I should’ve. It wouldn't have hurt so much. I also would not have been as rough as I was.”  
I blinked. “I don't understand what was wrong with last night.”  
He let out a breath. “Nothing _wrong_. I just would've done things differently.”  
“But I liked-!” I stopped myself, eyes widening, turned away slightly.   
I could see him study me out of the corner of my eye. “You liked what?”  
I hesitated. “I liked . . . how it was done. What you did. I enjoyed it.”  
“Shai-!”  
“Please don't go feeling guilty or bad or whatever about it because then you won't do it again,” I blurted out quickly before I could change my mind.  
He tilted his head. “And you want me to?”  
I closed my eyes, nodded. “Yes.”  
A pause. “Why?”  
I shifted uncomfortably, eyes still closed.   
“Shai, please, at least tell me it's not-!”  
“Because I want to. Because I . . . I liked it. The orgasms were scary, I don't like the loss of control, but other than that, I really did enjoy it.”  
He came to me then, pulling me into his arms. “I enjoyed it too. I enjoyed your reactions, and how sensitive you are. Orgasms aren't anything to be afraid of.” He smiled then. “And besides, you like to face your fears.”


End file.
